Blood Relatives
by Roth
Summary: There is a serial murderer on the lose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?
1. Chapter I

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: DeadlyNightShade13

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the lose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda. Not a great summary

Note: I'm not sure how well this story is going to go. Not all the details are ironed out 100, but the idea is coming along. I really need a beta for this story so if you are interested, please email me. I am well aware of how graphic my open scene is, and I am terribly sorry if I offend anybody, but I had to write to make the story make sense. And please, no flames. (I re-posted it for a few mistakes I found.)

**Blood Relatives**

Chapter One

_"Death is forever...and does forever have a life to call its own?" Billie Joe Green Day_

It had been his reoccurring nightmare since he was fifteen. He walked into his house after spending the night at his friend's house and saw them. His mother, his father, and his little sister, Brianna, all lying in the living room. Each one of them had their throat slashed.

"Grandma!" he shouted, the situation not seeming real at first. He got no reply and shouted again, "GRANDMA!" Still, no one shouted back, and he dropped his bag by the door. He ran through their house searching for his grandmother who had lived with them since he could remember. She wasn't in the kitchen or her bedroom on the first floor.

The boy ran up the stairs and down the hall to his room. No one was in there either. His search continued to Brianna's room and his parents, but both rooms were empty. The boy looked down the hall and saw the door to his little brothers' room. Taking several deep breaths, he walked toward the door. A shaky hand reached out and pushed open the door which was covered in signs and posters his brothers had made. What he saw nearly made him puke, his younger brother, Andy, was lying near the door. His eyes were open with a look of pure fear while a telltale bullet hole stuck out on his chest. His youngest brother, Carter, was huddled in the corner with a pool of blood beneath him. Unfortunately, he had suffered the same fate as his older brother.

The teenager backed out of the room and into the hallway. This had to be a dream; a nightmare. He turned his head and saw the door to his sister's nursery open a crack. Cautiously, the teenager walked toward the door. He reached out warily and pushed it all the way open. The site on the other side was almost as horrifying as the one in the living room. His Grandma Diana was sitting in the rocking chair near his sister's crib. The front of her shirt was covered in blood from a stab wound in her chest.

The boy began to shake his head quickly back and forth not wanting to believe what he was seeing. His mind focused on the crib. _"Not her," _he thought to himself. _"Not Alexis, too." _The teenager walked slowly toward the crib not knowing what horrors he would find in there. He peered over the edge and looked at his one and half year old sister. It would have looked like she was sleeping had it not been for the fact her lips were blue. "No," said the boy reaching down to shake the baby. There was no response to his touch. "No!" he shouted a second time. He was it; the only survivor.

XVIIIIV

The man, no longer the scared boy in his nightmare, sprang up in bed and tried to even out his breathing. He looked around at the walls of his dorm room trying to reassure himself of his surroundings. "It was just the dream," the man muttered to himself over and over. The images of his nightmare had taken place over eight years before. After a few minutes, his heart rate and breathing had returned to normal, and the man swung his legs over the side of his bed and walked over to his window.

"I'm going to make them pay!" the man said to no one specific after he had been staring at the starry night sky for a few minutes. A grunt from his sleeping roommate startled the man, and he quickly lowered his voice. "I promise." He stood at his window a few minutes longer before going back to his bed to get what little sleep he could.

XVIIIIV

"And that should be it," said Charlie as he finished the equation. He turned toward his class and was met by a classroom of dull, lifeless stares. He sometimes wondered why people took math if they didn't enjoy it. "Any questions?"

Not one hand went up, which didn't surprise him, and he tried his best to suppress a sigh. "This will be it for the semester," Charlie said to the students. A few of them seemed to wake up at that line. "If you have any questions before finals, you know where to find me." No one moved a muscle. "That's it."

The students seemed to come to life and stood up to leave the class. Charlie knew it wasn't nice to say, but this had to be his least favorite class. He still wasn't sure how he had been conned into teaching this class. All the students were freshmen who had to take this class, and it was painfully obvious that most of them didn't like it. He had a few who did seem to learn, but not a whole lot. He sat down at his desk and started to gather up some of his papers.

"Professor Eppes?" said a voice in front of his desk. Charlie looked up at the short brunette in front of him. She was a quiet kid who never spoke much in class. That resulted in Charlie's inability to remember her name.

"Yes, Miss...," Charlie racked his mind for the girl's name. "Miss...?"

"Chase," finished the girl. "Beth Chase." She seemed rather annoyed that her name was so forgettable. "I have a question about the finals schedule."

"It's posted right outside the door," said Charlie using a pencil to point to the entrance of his classroom.

"I checked before class," said the girl quietly, "and it's not out there."

Charlie stared at her for a second and then stood up. He walked over to the door and looked at the wall next to the frame. He walked back over to his desk obviously confused. He searched through some of the papers on his desk and finally found the schedule buried in the papers. Charlie gave the girl a sheepish smile as he handed her the schedule. "Could you hang that on the door on your way out?"

The girl nodded and got a piece of tape out of the dispenser. She stuck it to the back of the paper and walked out of the room. Charlie sighed as he went back to gathering up the papers. He hated finals. They always took too long, and they were Hell getting ready for. Charlie preferred teaching the classes. He could change what he was teaching daily and actually interact with the students. Well, at least with the other classes he could. Charlie finally found all the papers he needed and put them into his bag. He was just about to leave when another student walked into his class. Charlie sat back down at his desk ready to talk to him.

XVIIIIV

Don flashed his FBI badge as he and Terri walked into the crime scene. It was a small cramped apartment which seemed to normally be kept very clean, but now had been dirtied with both a corpse and a crew of cops and ME's hurrying about.

The man was lying on the floor. His throat had been slashed nearly all the way through; beneath him, was a puddle of blood. "My God," Don heard Terri say quietly beside him.

"What have you got?" Don asked one of the detectives who was already there.

The detective turned toward Don. "Who are you?" he demanded raising an eyebrow. He apparently was not fond of being bothered on the job.

"Agent Don Eppes," replied Don taking out his badge and showing it to the cop. "This is my partner, Terri Lake."

"Det. Paul Greene," said the detective extending his hand to both of them. Terri and Don shook it.

"What have you got?" Don asked again.

"Male, 58, throat slashed, dead about nine hours," replied Det. Greene quickly. It was obvious he wanted to get through this meeting as fast as possible. "His girlfriend called the cops about an hour ago. She couldn't get him to answer the door and used her key to get in. She found him lying on the floor."

Don nodded, but Terri didn't seem to be listening. Don nudged her with his elbow once the detective had walked away. "What are you thinking?" he asked quietly.

"I know him," replied Terri. "I can't remember where, but I do."

Det. Greene walked back over carrying a clear evidence bag. "The man's name is Gary Bolin."

Terri's face seemed to pale. "That's where I know him," said Terri quietly. "Alec Bolin, he's an agent, that's his father."

Don turned toward the body lying on the floor and stared at it for a minute. "This huy was an agent's father?" Terri nodded in response.

"That might explain this," said Det. Greene holding up an evidence bag a cop had given him. Terri took it from the detective and read the note inside. "It's really the only reason we called you guys."

Terri handed the note to Don as she shook her head. Don carefully read it through.

_"FBI,_

_ This is it. You told me you protected the innocent. You told me _

_ you helped people. You told me you would find them. Well, you _

_ had you chance, but now your time is up. It all begins here. _

_ I'm not waiting anymore."_

"What is this?" Don asked Det. Greene. The man shrugged his shoulders.

"Found it next to the victim," answered the detective. "But seems pretty obvious this guy is out for revenge." One of the ME's called the detective over. He nodded quickly at Don and Terri before going back over to the ME.

"What the Hell do you think this note is about?" asked Don as he turned toward Terri. She shook her head obviously troubled by the whole situation. Don found it disturbing, too. He flipped the bag over, but found nothing on the back on the note. "What do they think they're up to?" He looked from the note horrific crime scene almost in shock. What the Hell did this person have planned?

XVIIIIV

Well, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I do know it's disturbing, and I'm sorry if I freaked anyone out. I'm not sure how fast this story will. I like the shows with Terri better so she is going to be in my story. I'm taking Driver's Ed over the summer, and I have to go there during the day. If anyone wants to beta for me, email me.


	2. Chapter II

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: DeadlyNightShade13

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I like my rhyme so I'll use it again. I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the lose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda. Not a great summary

Note: I'll taking Driver's ED which will explain a section of the chapter. Neither one of the characters are going to be in the story again. If anyone is interested in being a beta, email me. That's all for my note

**Blood Relatives**

Chapter Two

_"Man is the only animal that laughs and weeps; for he is the only animal that is struck with the difference between what things are, and what they ought to be." William Hazlitt_

Don let out a sigh of frustration. This day had not been that bad when it started, but with the news of the murder of an agent's father, the office had turned to chaos. Everyone seemed to take the murder personally, and the note to the FBI had been enough to tip over the scales.

"We can't get a hold of Alec Bolin yet," said David as he walked over to Don's desk. "He's working undercover. They think they might be able to get him here by tomorrow."

"Okay," said Don hoping the stress would not show in his voice. They had gotten this case only four hours before, but everyone was already on edge. No one wanted to see any killers get away, especially when the victim was so close to the FBI.

"The police didn't find any prints at the scene," continued David. "We've sent the note in for examination; see if they can get anything off that."

"Good," said Don letting out a sigh.

David studied the older agent. "You okay?" he asked after a minute had passed.

Don looked up. "Oh yeah," said Don as convincingly as he could. "Fine. Just a little tired. Couldn't sleep." It seemed believable enough. He didn't want to say what was really bothering him.

David nodded, seeming convinced, and walked away. "That was a good story," said Terri sarcastically as she set down on the corner of the desk.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Don not in the mood to talk about anything, but the case.

"What's on your mind, Don?" asked Terri. Don didn't answer. "You still with me, Don?"

There still was no reply. "What's going on with you?"

"They're not done," said Don quietly.

"What?" said Terri.

"I said they're not done," repeated Don a little louder. He looked up at Terri. "You saw the note. They want revenge, and they're not done." He nearly shouted, and everyone in the bullpen looked toward them.

"We're looking through old cases to see if any of them are similar," said Terri still wondering what was bothering Don. His explanation had made no sense. "Maybe we'll find something there."

"Yeah," said Don. "I gotta get back to work." It was clearly a signal he wanted to end the conversation. Terri nodded, got up, and walked away.

XVIIIIV

"This is going to be really easy, Renee," said Lara Carey to her fifteen-year-old daughter trying to calmly talk her through pulling out of the DMV parking lot. "Put your foot on the brake and put the car in reverse."

"Ok-okay," said Renee, voice shaking a bit as she followed her mother's instructions. She had gotten her learner's permit only five minutes before, and this would be her first time driving legally. Her father had taken her out a few times over the summer while she was staying with him. Her mother and father had been divorced for seven years.

"Slowly turn the wheel," said Lara. Renee nodded and let out a slow breath. She did as she was told and pulled out of the parking space. "Now, stop." Lara instantly regretted her command. Renee slammed her foot on the break causing them both to be flung forward.

Lara took in a deep breath as she hit the back of her seat. She looked at her daughter's face and saw that most of the color had drained out of it. "That's why we wear seatbelts," said Lara forcing out a smiling as she put a hand on her chest. She had no idea her heart could beat that fast. Renee gave a weak grin in return.

"What do I do now?" asked the teenager.

"Put your foot on the brake, and put it in drive," replied Lara. Renee nodded and followed the instructions. The girl's driving was jerky, but she finally managed to get the car straightened out.

Lara smiled letting out a sigh of relief. "Pull up to the exit," instructed Renee's mother. The teenager pulled forward, riding the brakes the entire time, and pulled up to the exit. "Look both ways."

"I know that," said Renee hitting the brakes a little too hard again. She watched the traffic looking for her chance and finally took it about three minutes later.

"See," said Lara giving her daughter an encouraging smile and relaxing for the first time since she and her daughter had gotten to the DMV, "this isn't so hard, is it?"

Renee gave Lara a genuine smile and shook her head. "No," she said as she increased the speed so the speedometer was above twenty. Lara watched as another car passed them. She knew they were going a little slow and were making people mad, but she didn't want to make her daughter any more nervous.

Renee drove well for awhile, with no more braking mishaps, and was finally starting to relax for the first time. Lara became calmer, too. She hadn't really wanted to teach Renee how to drive, but with her father living all the way in Sacramento, Renee had no one else to learn from.

Lara looked up and saw the black blazer in front of them brake suddenly for a red light. "Stop, Renee!" shouted Lara as she slammed down on the floorboard of the passenger's side not realizing the imaginary brake wasn't going to work.

Renee stepped hard on her breaks, but it wasn't soon enough. The front end of her mother's Lumina hit the back end of the blazer.

XVIIIIV

Don left the office earlier than he had expected to that morning. He could no longer focus on the case and had ended up snapping at three different agents before he had decided to do something about what was on his mind. The image of Gary Bolin lying dead at the crime scene was stuck in his head. He had not known the man personally, and he barely knew Alec, but it was the thought that Gary Bolin was an agent's father that was bothering Don.

The killer had made it perfectly clear that he had a grudge against the FBI, and he had also made it clear he was not finished yet. Being lost in his thoughts, Don did not notice the stoplight had changed from green, to yellow, to red. He barely saw the car in front of him stop in time and slammed on his breaks. A moment later, he heard a crash and was thrown forward restrained only by the seatbelt.

Don sat there for a moment a little shook up. A shaky hand reached down and unhooked the seatbelt. He opened the door of the car and stepped out onto the road. For a moment, Don thought the driver of the car that had just hit him was coming over, but then he saw a teenaged girl leaning by the car door. He had been hit by a kid.

The woman looked at the front-end of her and the back-end of Don's studying the damage. "Are you okay?" asked the woman as she walked over to him.

"Yeah," answered Don. "You?" The woman nodded. "What about you daughter?" he asked pointing to the girl who was still leaning against the car.

"A little scared," replied the woman. By now, traffic had started to go around them. "She just got her permit." The woman was trying to defend her daughter. "She didn't see you stopping."

"I'm never driving again!" shouted the teenager from where she stood. "I will walk everywhere!"

"Unfortunately," said the woman. "I don't think that's a threat."

"It's kind of my fault," admitted Don feeling bad for the woman and her daughter. "I didn't see the light."

"I am really sorry," said the woman.

"It's okay," said Don not really wanting to deal with this, but knowing he had too. "It looks like your car got most the damage. If we could just exchange information?"

"Right," said the woman turning to go back to her own car.

Don looked down at the back of his car. The damage didn't look too bad. One of the brake lights was broken, there were a few scratches, and a small dent. Don let out a frustrated sigh looked up at the other car. He saw the woman with her arm around her daughter's shoulders apparently trying to calm her down. That scene reminded him of why he was heading home in the first place. He needed to see his father and Charlie. Sure, the killer hadn't targeted him or anything, but the case was still disturbing. He needed to see his family.

The woman came back over, holding a sheet of paper, and they started to deal with the insurance part of the accident.

XVIIIIV

Alan was sitting in the living room of his son's house, he would never get used to saying that, reading the paper. He was so sick of reading about the war in Iraq. It seemed like that was in the paper every time he opened it. Alan heard the front door open, and looked over the top of his newspaper. He saw his oldest son walked into the house. "Hey, Donnie," said Alan as he went back to reading.

Don slowly walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. "Hey, Dad," he said quietly.

Alan looked up and studied his sons unusual demeanor. He was looking around the living room seeming to be lost in space. He seemed uncomfortable, nervous, and unable to focus. Don was acting like Charlie when he had too much on his mind. "What are you doing off work so early?" Alan asked after his son had failed to strike up a conversation. Don didn't answer. "Donnie? Don?"

Don jumped a little and turned toward his father. "Yeah?"

"Nothin," said Alan. He gave his eldest a scrutinizing look. "What's on you mind, Donnie?"

Don looked down at his hands. "Just a case," answered Don vaguely.

"Ah," said Alan nodding his head. "Well, if you're looking for Charlie, he's still at the school. It's finals time."

"I'm not looking for Charlie," replied Don. "There's not pattern for him to find on this case."

"Can I ask why you stopped by?" questioned Alan. Don looked up at him. "Not that I don't appreciate the visit."

"Just thought I would," answered Don. "I had a little break time." It was obvious by look on his father's face that he didn't by the explanation.

"You staying for dinner?" asked Alan as he let his eyes drift back down to the paper.

"No." Don shook his head. "I have to get back pretty soon." There was a pause. "You sure Charlie is at the school?"

Alan bent down the paper to look at his son. "Pretty sure," replied Alan.

Don started nodding again. "Okay." Alan continued staring at his son, confused as Hell.

XVIIIIV

Charlie was hunched over his desk still trying to finish preparing for his finals. It was taking far too long, and with what seemed like a constant stream of students, it seemed like he would never be able to get out of his classroom.

"Prof. Eppes?" said a voice from the door of his room. Charlie looked up from his work to see who was there. He saw a student, he believed to be a junior, standing in the doorway. "I have a question."

"Come on in, Kade," said Charlie. Kade Hackett was an incredibly serious and smart student. Charlie was wondering what he could be having trouble on, but was willing to help the student.

XVIIIIV

I'm sorry if anyone was offended by the newspaper line. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	3. Chapter III

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: DeadlyNightShade13

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: Still likin' my rhyme. I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the lose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: I've had a long week, so if you flame me, I will flame back. BYES!

**Blood Relatives**

Chapter Three

"_Revenge is barren of itself: it is the dreadful food it feeds on; its delight is murder, and its end is despair." Friedrich Schiller  
_

Prue Boyd was proud of her small house. It wasn't much, but it was a step up from the hole-in-the apartment she had been living in for most of her college years. She carried another box, this one full of pictures, into her near empty living room and set it on the futon that was going to serve as her couch. Prue smiled as she looked around her livingroom. Sure, it was a major fixer-upper, but she could not be happier with her purchase.

A crash from the kitchen brought Prue out of her reverie. "Shit!" said Prue thinking the box of dishes she had set on the counter had fallen. She hurried down the hall towards her kitchen, but found the box was still sitting safely on the counter. Instead, the back door was wide open, and the window closest to the lock had been broken. "Oh, my God," said Prue quietly feeling like ice had just dropped into her stomach. She backed up and reached for the phone on the wall. Prue was so glad she had hooked it up that morning.

The dial tone of the phone was a welcome sound, and Prue was just about to call the police when a hand was placed over her mouth. Prue watched as a gloved hand took the phone from her and laid it on the counter. Prue had never known true fear until she saw the knife in front of her face. _"I'm going to die!" _screamed her mind. That was her last thought. She passed out not three seconds later.

XVIIIIV

Don had about a half-hour before Alec Bolin was supposed to come in. The agent had not been told why he was called in when he was still working undercover. Don had no idea how Alec was going to take the news of his father's murder. Any scenario he could come up with was bad, but, then again, Don couldn't think of a good way to react to death; especially murder.

Don saw Terri walk toward him and knew immediately that she was going to have a string of questions for him. He leaned back a little in his chair and waited for her to get over there.

"Where did you go yesterday?" she asked as she stopped in front of his desk.

"Nowhere," replied Don curtly hoping to end the conversation.

Terri nodded, but was obviously unconvinced. "So you left, went nowhere for an hour, and then came back?" she tried to clarify.

"Yep."

"That's Bullshit."

Don looked up at Terri startled by her language. She raised an eyebrow skeptically and asked, "Where did you really go yesterday?"

Don let out a sigh as he eyes drifted all around to avoid Terri's. He mumbled an answer that Terri wasn't able to understand.

"What?" said Terri rather annoyed at Don's childish way of replying.

"I went home," said Don louder finally relenting. "I went t see my dad and Charlie."

"Oh," said Terri sheepishly feeling bad about demanding an answer. "Okay."

"Charlie was still at the school," continued Don figuring he should tell her the whole story. "I just stayed there, and I talked to my dad for awhile."

"Does your dad know why you were there?"

"What do you mean?"

"The case, Don. It's bothering everyone." Don looked away from her. "I called my parents last night and talked to them for about two hours."

"How did it go?" asked Don clearly trying to change the subject.

"Okay," replied Terri. "It was limited to two fights, light criticism, and a basic update of my life. Then, I told them I loved them and hung up."

Don opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by David who had made his way over during the conversation. "Alec Bolin is here," he said interrupting the conversation.

"Alright," said Don as he got to his feet. Terri followed.

"What happened to the back of you car?" asked David.

Don had forgotten about the accident. Sure, he'd been reminded of the collision when he went to his car that morning and saw the dents and broken brake light, but with the case, he had pushed it to the back of his mind. "I had a fender-bender," explained Don. "A kid with a permit rear-ended me."

"Oh," said David. "When did that happen?"

"Yesterday afternoon," muttered Don quickening his pace when he saw a very pale Agent Alec Bolin waiting for them. He was nervously rocking back and forth on his heels. Alec saw them and hurried to meet them.

"They said you guys had news about my family," said the agent nervously as he shook Don's hand merely casting a quick glance at the other two agents.

"We do," replied Don. "I'm Agent Eppes, and this is Agent Lake and Agent Sinclair."

Agent Bolin nodded, but it was clear he didn't care about any of their names. He knew that if he was called off an undercover case for news about his family, it had to be either really important or really bad. "What's going on?" asked Alec not wanting to chat, but wanting to get to the reason he had been called in.

"I think we'd better go sit down," said Don. The man went paler, if that was possible. His freckled features had already been about the color of a sheet. "Okay," said Alec giving a slight nod.

They took the agent into the conference room and watched as he collapsed heavily into a chair. "It's bad, isn't it?" Alec asked quietly not looking up from his hands which he had decided were the most interesting things in the world.

Don took the seat across from Alec while David took the chair on the end, and Terri chose a seat closer t the distraught agent. "Yeah," answered Don, "it is." He had no idea how he was going to tell the agent his father was dead; not just dead, but murdered. "It's about your father."

Alec looked up his eyes full of disbelief. "Is he hurt?" he asked. His voice actually seemed to contain hope; hope the he wouldn't have to ask the next question Don knew was coming.

"No," answered Don as he shook his head.

Alec swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "Is he dead?" he asked after letting out a deep breath.

Don nodded sadly. "Yes."

Tears that seemed to have been working their way to Alec's eyes during the entire conversation came down. "How?" he asked with a choked voice as he tried to wipe away the tears.

"That's the hard part," replied Don. He wanted to break this to him as gently as he could. "Alec," he said looking the agent straight in the eye, "he was murdered."

All three agents knew that if there had been any color left in Alec's face, it would have faded quickly. For a second, Don thought he was going to pass out. "What?" demanded Alec. He had lost all control he had over his emotions, and the tears came down. "You can't be serious!"

"We need to ask you some questions," said Don as calmly as he could.

"No!" shouted Alec standing up so quickly he knocked his chair backwards. "This can't be real!"

"Please calm down," said David. Alec ignored him and headed toward the door.

"I don't know if you think this sick joke is funny," Alec shouted over him about to open the door, "but I don't!"

He was about to head out the door when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw the owner of the hand; Terri. "This is no joke, is it?"Alec asked the situation finally hitting home. Terri shook her head in reply. Alec looked down at his feet and closed the door. He slowly made his way back to the table and sat back down.

XVIIIIV

After Alec Bolin had calmed down and accepted the news, they were actually able to talk to him. Don finally got him to ask the questions he needed to. He found out that Gary didn't seem to have any enemies, and Alec was pretty sure that he didn't either. Don's hope deflated. He had prayed they weren't actually going to have to deal with someone who wanted revenge, a person who was going to kill more, but now he was sure of it.

It was then Alec's turn to ask questions, and he had plenty. Don was about half-way through answering all of them when they were interrupted by a knock on the door. David got up and went to see what they wanted while Don and Terri continued to answer the questions.

Don looked up and watching David walk toward the door. The look at the face as the person gave him the news told Don that it wasn't good. Don got up and walked over to them.

"This isn't good," David said to Don as the person closed the door to the conference room. Terri was still sitting at the table trying to console Alec who seemed to of had another breakdown.

"What happened?" asked Don. He had a vague idea though.

"Det. Greene called," answered David. "There's been another murder."

XVIIIIV

In my own opinion, this is not my best work, but give me a break, I've had a long week, and it's not even over yet. I also know that it is seriously lacking in Charlie, sorry. He'll be in the next chapter. Well, still looking for beta. Thanx! BYES!


	4. Chapter IV

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: DeadlyNightShade13

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer:

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the lose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda? Not a great summary

Note: Okay, a girl at my cousin's softball game broke my cousin's wrist when she jumped on it, (the girl who broke it goes to my school) and I am pissed, so pissed will show up in my writing (Not the word, but the emotion). Oh, and thanx for all the reviews. Alright, that's my note. BYS! )-:

**Blood Relatives**

Chapter Four

_"Fear - jealousy - money - revenge - and protecting someone you love." Max Halliday "Dial M for Murder"_

Charlie woke up unusually late the morning of his day off. He planned on going down to CalSci later. There were still two finals he had to finish working on, and students were still coming in to ask questions. Some were overly prepared and wanted to make sure they knew the tiniest details, and some were students who had no idea what was going on in their classes and came hoping for a complete review of the entire semester.

Charlie walked down the stairs and headed toward the kitchen. There were no sounds coming from the kitchen or anywhere else downstairs, and Charlie figured that he had gotten up before his father. He remembered his dad saying something about a date and guessed that he most likely had a late night.

The mathematician stumbled into the kitchen, still not fully awake yet, and grabbed the handle of the fridge. He pulled it open, feeling the blast of cold air, and snatched the orange juice on the top shelf. Knowing he was probably the only one up, and that his father wouldn't get mad if he didn't see it, Charlie took a drink straight out of the carton and then set it on the counter. He took a minute to debate whether or not to eat breakfast before deciding not, too. He wasn't very hungry, and he didn't feel like searching for anything to eat.

Leaving the orange juice on the counter, Charlie went to get the newspaper. He hoped he could at least finish reading it before going to school. Reading the paper wasn't part of his daily routine, he was either too busy or too distracted to sit down and read it, but there were times when he got it done.

As he pulled open the front door, a wave of hot air drifted into the air-conditioned house, and Charlie wished he could exchange it for the cold air that came out of the fridge. It was hot, even for late May in LA. Charlie could only imagine what the paper said the temperature was. He knew people often guessed ten degrees off the real temperature, but at the moment his own mind was guessing near the hundreds.

Charlie grabbed the paper and headed back into the house. He relished the cool air as he headed back toward the kitchen. The paper was tucked under his arm as he poured himself a glass of orange juice. Charlie headed toward the table and sat down.

He took a long drink from the glass and then looked at the paper. He was still trying to guess the temperature outside when one of the stories on the front page caught his eye. The title read _Man Killed in Home_, and the picture next to it was of a man in his late fifties. _Gary Bolin_ read the caption below the picture. It hadn't been the name of the article or the picture that had caught Charlie's eye so much as a word that was repeated several times through the article; three little letters; _FBI_. The reporter had mentioned that the FBI had been brought in, something Charlie highly doubted the reporter was supposed to know.

His mind was racing. _"Why had the FBI been called in?"_ There was another thought clawing at the back of his mind. _"Why did that name sound so familiar?" _Charlie let out a sigh as he closed the paper. He no longer felt like finding out the temperature or reading the paper.

XVIIIIV

Don stared at the woman lying on the floor of the kitchen. His mind was screaming that it was no longer a woman, but a corpse, but it was hard. This woman was so young, maybe twenty-four at the most.

This crime scene was more gruesome than the last, and it was a little bit harder to take, not that he would ever let anyone know that. He was there by himself at the moment. Terri was back at the office still talking to Alec Bolin, and David was outside talking to an officer.

The young woman's throat had been slashed, just like Gary Bolin's, and she had been left on the floor probably where she had fallen. There was more to the crime scene this time. A broken picture frame which looked like it contained a family photo was lying on her chest. Another note was sitting on top the broken glass.

"You know," said a voice behind him. "I don't really like sharing all my work with the FBI." Don turned around and saw Det. Paul Greene standing there.

"Hello, again," muttered Don turning back toward the body. "What do you got?"

"Her name was Prue Boyd," replied Det. Greene. "Twenty-three. Neighbor found her this morning. Estimated time of death is about nine p.m.."

Don took a step forward and looked down at the photograph in the broken frame.

"The picture came from a box in the living room," explained Det. Greene. "Looks like she was just moving in."

Don looked up and glanced around the kitchen. Unpacked boxes where everywhere. He looked back down at the photo and continued studying it. The man on the far left of the picture looked far too familiar. "Joseph Boyd," muttered Don.

"Who?" asked Det. Greene.

"Joseph Boyd," Don repeated louder turning toward the detective. "He's an agent. This is...this is his sister."

Det. Greene nodded in understanding. "They left another note," he said pointing to the piece of paper lying on the bits of glass. Don carefully grabbed the corner of the note and picked it up to read it.

_"FBI,_

_ You said you would find them. You promised!_

_ But you quit. You gave up! Now you must pay!_

_I told you, I'm not waiting anymore."_

Don shook his head as he laid the note back on the glass.

"Were you able to get prints off the last one?" asked Det. Greene as Don stood up. The agent stared at him for a second before replying.

"No," replied Don as he shook his head. "No prints."

"Well," said Det. Greene, "I hope you have more luck this one." Don nodded tiredly. "And I really hope there isn't a third."

Don stared at the detective. He was having mixed feelings about Paul Greene. One minute, he would seem like he wanted to help, and the next, it seemed like all he wanted to do was get them off the crime scene. "Yeah," said Don quietly. "So do I." He looked at the detective a minute longer and then walked away.

XVIIIIV

When Don and David returned to the office, the news of a second murder had already spread. "I want to try and get fingerprints off the note and the picture frame," Don said to one of the technicians, "and I want someone to find who the last people she talked to were." The technician nodded before hurrying away.

"What about Joe?" asked David referring to Prue Boyd's older brother. He too knew the agent.

Don sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "Get him in here," replied Don. "Gotta tell him sometime." David nodded as he turned to walk the other way leaving an emotionally drained Don to collapse into his desk chair.

"Was it the same guy?" he heard Terri ask. Don could see her torso standing in front of his desk, but didn't bother looking up.

"Unfortunately,"answered Don.

"Who was it?"

"Prue Boyd."

"Prue Boyd?" said Terri thinking about the name. "As in Joe Boyd?" Don let out a deep breath as he nodded. "Does he know yet?"

"No," said Don shaking his heard. "Calling him in now." He looked up. "You get anything else out of Alec?"

"Afraid not," replied Terri. "He couldn't think of anyone his father might have been with that night. He said that we should talk to his father's girlfriend, Sandra Buell."

"Alright," said Don tiredly.

"You okay?" asked Terri concerned by her partner's behavior.

"Yeah," replied Dom nodding quickly. "It's just...that..." He shook his head. "It was a person's sister this time." Terri just stared at him not quiet understanding. "Why is he doing this? There has got to be a reason."

XVIIIIV

The man smiled as he cut Gary Bolin's photo out the newspaper. The article that went with had already been neatly cut out and was lying on the floor. He was proud of his work. It's not like he was a show off and wanted the entire world to know about what he did, but he did want a souvenir of his work.

The man wasn't really trying to prove anything to the world. He could care less if any of LA knew what he was doing. This was his own personal revenge. The only people he wanted to have know about the killings were the Los Angeles' FBI. He hoped everyone of the agents was shaking, not knowing if there loved ones were next.

The man set the picture and article into his night stand drawer and slid it shut. He wasn't going to tack the articles up on the wall. He couldn't risk his roommate seeing them. Casey was paranoid enough. No need for him to going running to the police thinking his roommate was the killer, even if he would be right.

The man let out a content sigh as he laid back on his bed. He couldn't wait for tomorrow's newspaper and the picture of Prue Boyd. The look of pure fear on her face was still fresh in his mind. Whoever had said revenge was sweet had been right.

XVIIIIV

That temp. thing is not a proven fact. That's just what goes on in my house, except for my dad. He's like a human thermometer.


	5. Chapter V

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: DeadlyNightShade13

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I forgot a disclaimer last time so I'll make up for it now. I don't own Numb3rs (x2). Little bit of math for you. ;-)

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda? Not a great summary

Note: I don't remember if I told you guys this in the beginning, (I guess I could check, but I'm too lazy), but I planned on making this story a slight D/T. Nothing incredibly obvious, but hints here and there. SideOneDummy Records is not made up.

**Blood Relatives**

Chapter Five

_"Man has no right to kill his brother. It is no excuse that he does so in uniform: he only adds the infamy of servitude to the crime of murder." Percy Bysshe Shelley _

His students were taking a final, the quiet of the classroom helped Charlie focus on the article in the paper, but their impending test hadn't stopped the students from noticing their teacher's strange obsession with that day's news. Charlie knew his father probably wouldn't be too happy that he stole the paper off the porch when he left for work that morning, but Charlie had noticed another article with a familiar name. There had been about another murder. Re-reading the article a third time, Charlie tried to focus just on the name trying to figure out why it was so familiar. Charlie wasn't good at remembering names, his students could vouch for him on that, but his memory kept telling him he knew both those names. The reason why, however, continued to evade him.

Charlie didn't notice the student who was standing in front of his desk. With the article holding his mind in it's grip, Charlie probably wouldn't have noticed a bomb going off. The boy stood there for a few minutes tapping one of his feet and holding his test loosely in his hand. He stared at his professor who was focused wholly on the newspaper in front of him waiting for a sign of recognition.

"Professor Eppes?" said the student quietly hoping he could get his attention without talking to loud; most of the other students were still working. Charlie didn't respond. "Professor Eppes?" said the student again only now a little louder; Charlie stilled stared down at the paper. "Professor Eppes?" said the student a third time using a normal voice. Charlie jumped a bit and looked up startled at the student.

"Yes?" said Charlie surprised. The student held out his answer booklet indicating he was finished with his final. "Sorry," said Charlie sheepishly as he took the booklet. The student rolled his eyes slightly, which Charlie didn't notice, and walked out of the classroom.

Charlie set the booklet on the corner of the desk and went back to the article. He knew he should probably start work on grading finals or the problems he agreed to help Larry with, but the article still had hold of his mind. Amita would probably help him grade the finals later anyway. Charlie was sure he knew those names from some reason, now he just needed to figure out why.

XVIIIIV

"I've got good news for you, Don," said David excitedly as he hurried over to the older agent clutching a small piece of paper in his right hand. "We got a print off the second note."

Don smiled for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. This was the first good news he had heard in two days. "Whose is it?"

"A guy named Christopher Farrow," replied David. "He doesn't have much of a rapsheet. One count of aggravated assault, and two breaking and enterings. Those put him away for five years. He was paroled seven months ago. He's been working as the night janitor at SideOneDummy Records for the past five months." He gave the name of Farrow's workplace a funny look as he read it off the paper.

"We got an address?"

"Yep," answered David. "Seems after he was paroled, he went back to live with his parents, Kenneth and Charmaine Farrow. Got their address right here." David held up a small white sheet of paper.

Don smiled again as he grabbed the paper. "Let's go get him," he said reading the address.

XVIIIIV

Christopher Farrow's parent's house was in a small residential area of LA where all the houses were nearly the same style and seemed to only differ by color. The yards were neatly mowed with individual sprinkler systems that kept them nice and green through the ongoing heat wave. Don and David walked up the sidewalk to a small blue ranch style house with a yard that was neat and green like all of its neighbors.

"Doesn't exactly scream serial killer," muttered David as they stepped on to the porch that was decorated with a glider and two wicker chairs.

"Yeah," said Don sardonically, "but neither did the neighborhood in _Halloween_."

Don reached out and knocked loudly on the white door that desperately needed a new coat of paint and waited for someone to answer. A moment later, Don and David heard footsteps on the other side, and then, the sound of a chain being removed. The door opened a crack, and they saw an older woman standing on the other side of the door.

"Can I help you?" asked the woman in a croaky voice. It was Don's best guess that the frog in her throat had come from years of smoking.

"Yeah," answered Don. "I'm Agent Don Eppes. This is Agent David Sinclair. We're with the FBI. We're looking for Christopher Farrow. Is he here?"

"What do you want with my son?" asked the woman paling noticeably as she opened the door wider. Don and David got their first good look at her. She was in late forties with greying brown hair. Her face had quite a few wrinkles and was weathered from a stressful life. Don guessed that her son going to prison had probably caused quite a few of those worry lines.

"We need to ask him a few questions," replied David. "Is he here?"

Charmaine Farrow nodded as she opened the door the rest of the way and allowed the two agents into the home. Don and David stood in the entryway of the house while the woman looked them over. She seemed to have forgotten why they were there.

"Your son ma'am," said David giving the woman a gentle reminder.

"Oh," said Charmaine startled. "Chris, right." She paused. "I'll go...I'll go get him." She gave the two agents one last glance before walked down the hallway.

"Hope she's not giving him a heads up so he can run," said David as they watched the woman disappear around the bend in the hallway.

Don scoffed as he nodded his head. He finally took a moment to look around the Farrow's home. It was small and neat with a system that seemed to be ordered clutter. Knickknacks crowded shelves, and family photos covered almost every inch of the walls. One appeared to be the focus of the collage. It looked like an older photograph of the entire family; the mother, a man Don assumed was Kenneth Farrow, and two young boys. Don wasn't sure which child was now the man they were looking for.

The woman and Farrow came back around the bend in the hallway; Charmaine had a secure grip on her son's arm. "Can I help you?" asked Farrow as he pulled a blue T-shirt over his blonde head. That was the only time Charmaine let go of his arm.

It was apparent that Farrow had just woken up. He stared at the agents with one eye as he attempted to rub sleep from the other. Farrow dropped his arm to his side and studied them.

"We need to ask you a few questions," replied Don staring hard at the man, "about Prue Boyd."

Farrow paled dramatically, and he seemed to waver on his feet. "Su-sure," said Farrow nodding his head his voice breaking a bit. "What...what do you wanna know?"

"We would like you to come with us," said David ignoring the question.

Don watched as the mother tightened her grip on his arm, apparently not wanting to let her son go. "What's goin' on, Boo?" asked Charmaine. Farrow closed his eyes embarrassed by the childhood nickname.

"I don't know," replied Farrow as he grabbed one of his mother's hands and tried to calm her down. "But I'm sure everything is gonna be fine." He turned toward the FBI agents. "I need to put shoes on." He rolled on his heels as he jerked his thumb back down the hall.

"I'll go with you," said David not wanting the suspect to get away. Farrow headed toward his bedroom with David on his heels leaving Don alone in the entryway with a worried Charmaine Farrow.

"What's goin' on?" demanded Charmaine seeming to be on the verge of tears. This was the first time Don noticed the slight Southern accent under her froggy voice.

"We need to ask your son some questions about Prue Boyd," answered Don calmly.

"That girl who was murdered?" said Charmaine. A tear sleep down her cheek.

Don sighed; she had read the paper that morning. "Yes," said hesitantly.

"My Christopher didn't have nothin' to do with that!" Charmaine nearly shouted. "He's a good boy, and he's been doin' great since he was released." She was now close to hysterics. "He hasn't done anythin' wrong!"

"We just need to ask him some questions," said Don.

"No!" shouted Charmaine. "No! He didn't do anythin' wrong! He didn't!"

"Mom," said Farrow calmly walking up beside his mother. David walked back over towards Don. "Mom, everything is going to be fine. I'll be back soon."

Charmaine looked up at her son with tears still falling down her face. Farrow pulled her into a hug and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He gave her a half-hearted smile before walking over to the agents.

"Let's go," said Don.

Farrow sighed and walked dejectedly out the front door of his home. Don was half-expecting Farrow to take off running, but their suspect stayed on the sidewalk toward the car that Don and David had arrived in.

_"This was too easy," _Don's mind screamed at him. _"This was all way too easy." _David put Farrow in the backseat, and he and Don then went to the front. They got in and then took off back toward the office.

XVIIIIV

Charlie waited as patiently as he could for his last few students to finish their finals. His mind was still racing with the questions that the article had been brought on. What he needed to do was talk to his brother, but for the time being, Charlie tried to occupy himself by grading some of the finals that were done.

He was busy writing a note in the margin of a test when another student came up to his desk. Charlie took the final that she handed him and watched as she walked out of the class. He took a quick look to see how many were left before setting the booklet on the stack with the rest. Charlie struggled to get his mind back on the note and away from the article. His students were going to be wanting to know what they got on their finals and in his class, and if he didn't get them graded, he was going to have quite a few unhappy students and not a very good explanation.

XVIIIIV

Don and David led Christopher Farrow through the office catching the attention of the other agents. They were all wondering the same thing. Was this the man who was killing their family members?

Terri was one those who had seen them walk in and hurried over to Don. "I got some information out of Joe," she said eyeing Farrow carefully

"I'll take him to the interrogation room," said David grabbing Farrow's upper. Don nodded, and David led the suspect away.

"What did you get?" asked Don hopefully.

"When you told me about Farrow earlier," explained Terri, "I asked Joe if Prue knew him. She did."

"How?" asked Don becoming more intrigued by the new information.

"They were dating," answered Terri, "but it was far from a picture perfect relationship. Told me they fought a lot." Don let a small smile slip onto his face, and Terri smiled back. They didn't want to get their hopes up, but they both prayed they had found their guy on the first try. Neither of them noticed how long they stared at each other, but after a moment, Don finally looked. Turning in the direction David had taken Farrow, Don headed toward the interrogation room; Terri was right behind him. She wanted to be there if this guy cracked.

Don and Terri looked into the room and saw Farrow sitting at the table with his head resting in his hands. His shoulders were shaking badly, and he was nervously tapping one of his feet. Farrow turned quickly toward the door when he heard it open.

"Wha-what do you want?" asked Farrow apprehensively as he stared at Don and Terri.

"We want to ask you some questions about Prue Boyd," answered Don as he sat down in one the chairs. Terri remained silent; she was busy studying Farrow's demeanor. He was glancing around the room trying to avoid their eyes, he continuously bounced his foot, and since Don and Terri had entered into the room, Farrow had started to wring his hands.

"Okay...," said Farrow as he shrugged his shoulders slightly, "but I don't think I can tell you too much."

"Oh," said Don shaking his head, "I think you can. Her brother said you two were dating."

Farrow looked down at his hands caught in his own lie. "You know Joe?"

"Yeah," replied Don. "We know Joe."

"We were dating," relented Farrow nodding several times.

"You know she's dead, right?" said Don staring hard at the nervous man.

Farrow's eyes started watering, and he quickly looked down at his hands to hide the fact he was starting to cry from the two agents. Again, he started nodding quickly as he replied. Apparently, it was a nervous habit. "Yeah," he answered. They could hear the tears in his voice, and Don's belief that they had caught the right man began to falter. "I know."

"Did you guys ever fight?" asked Terri joining the conversation.

Farrow shrugged and looked up toward the wall. "Yeah," he said quietly. "We fought. Most couples do."

"Were you fighting the night she was killed?" asked Terri.

Farrow nodded in response and murmured something undistinguishable.

"What?" demanded Don leaning forward toward the frightened man.

"It was about money," said Farrow barely loud enough for the two agents to hear. "We wanted to move in together, but she wanted me to get a better job with a larger salary first."

"What happened?" asked Terri.

"I was at her house helping her move in, and we got into the fight," explained Farrow. "It was stupid, and I was angry, and I left."

"Where were you when she was killed?" demanded Don.

Farrow looked up and straight into to Don's eyes for the first time since the questioning had started. "You think I killed her?" said Farrow bewildered. He shook his head back and forth. "I didn't kill her. I loved her!" He stood up quickly, knocking his chair over in the process, and began to pace the room like a trapped animal.

"Where were you the night she was killed?" demanded Don more forcefully as he stood preparing for anything Farrow might try. Terri had been taken aback by the suspect's sudden behavior, but she quickly recovered and prepared in case the agitated Farrow tried anything drastic.

"I didn't kill her," repeated Farrow as he threaded his fingers into his hair sandy blonde hair. Tears were streaming down his face. "I swear!"

Don grabbed Farrow by the shoulders, startling Terri, and forced the suspect to look him in the eye. "Where were you when she was killed!" Don demanded a third time.

Farrow looked at him, crying uncontrollably now, and shouted back, "I was at work! I was at work!" Don let go of his shoulders, and Farrow collapsed back into his chair. "I was at work," Farrow said again as he rested his forehead on his hand. "I went to work. If I hadn't been angry, I wouldn't have left her house early, and she wouldn't be dead, but I couldn't move in with her unless I got a better salary." He slammed his fist down and set his head on the table. "I was at work," he said for the fourth time still crying.

"Is there anyone who can verify that?" asked Don. Farrow nodded slightly struggling to wipe his eyes.

Don and Terri looked at each and then back at the broken man sitting at the table. They both felt sorry for him. "Why were your fingerprints on the note?" asked Terri after giving the man a moment to try and collect himself.

"I went there the morning after she was killed," explained Farrow. "I was gonna apologize, when I found her in the kitchen. I picked up the note. I wasn't thinking."

"How come you didn't call the police?" asked Don still slightly suspicious.

"I just got out of prison," answered Farrow. "I didn't think anyone would believe me. Prue knew I was an ex-con, and she didn't care, but I knew no one would believe me if I stayed there. So, I ran."

Don shook his head, and Terri sighed. They were nearly one hundred percent sure that Christopher Farrow was not their guy. No guilty man who act this way. Don only had one question left. "Do you know Gary Bolin?"

Farrow looked up at him obviously confused. "No," answer Farrow seeming emotionally drained. He shook his head. "I've never even heard of him." Farrow wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Don turned toward the door feeling the anger inside him about to bubble over. He had been so sure that Farrow was their guy, but not anymore. He grabbed the door and stormed angrily out of the room. Terri looked at the door and then back at the startled suspect. "We're going to have to verify that you were at work. So don't leave town." She thought of the irony of her words. He was on parole; he couldn't leave town. "Otherwise, we have no reason to hold you."

Farrow nodded and slowly got to his feet. His first step was shaky, and he used the table to steady himself. "Are you okay?" asked Terri grabbing his arm to help him.

"Yeah," replied Farrow pulling his arm from Terri's grip. "Fine." He hurried out of the room not wanting to stay at this place any longer.

Terri left the room also and went in search of Don knowing he was going to be unhappy with the loss of Christopher Farrow as a suspect. She found him sitting at his desk staring down at the note from the last crime scene.

"I thought we had him," said Don sensing Terri approach.

"So did I," murmured Terri.

"One lead," continued Don. "One fucking lead, and it's a dead end."

Terri looked down feeling terrible about the failure, too. "We finally found Sandra Buell," said Terri hoping to spark his confidence again. "She said she'll come in sometime today to talk to us." She looked up from her friend and spotted someone walking into the office. "You have company," Terri said nudging his arm.

Don looked up from sulking at his desk and saw Charlie walking in through the windows. Don was kind of glad to see him while at the same time kind of annoyed.

"I'll see you later," said Terri when Charlie walked over. "Hey, Charlie," she said giving him a wave as she walked away.

"Hey," Charlie said back quietly.

"Hey, Charlie," said Don wondering why his brother had stopped by. "What are you doing here?"

"Um...," replied Charlie hesitantly as he adjusted the strap of the backpack he had brought with him. "Dad said you stopped by the other. I've been pretty busy with finals." He paused. "I can leave if you're busy."

"No," said Don not wanting to hurry back to the case quite so soon. "It's okay."

Charlie nodded. "What's been going on with you?"

"Been working on a case, Charlie," answered Don with a sigh. He didn't want to think about it right now.

"I know," muttered Charlie glancing out the corner of his eye at the newspaper tucked securely under his arm.

"Huh?" said Don looking up at his brother.

"Nothin'," replied Charlie shaking his head. He tried to adjust the paper under his arm, but failed. The newspaper fell to the floor; the pages spilling all over. "Sorry," said Charlie quickly as he set his bag and scrambled to pick up the pages.

"So," said Don as he knelt down to help his brother, "you've seen the paper?"

"Yeah," answered Charlie sheepishly. He carelessly stuck the paper back together and stood up. "You know, if there is anything I can do to help."

"There isn't," retorted Don curtly.

Charlie nodded. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," answered Don becoming annoyed with his brother more and more. "Math can't help us on this one." He didn't really care if his last statement offended his little brother.

"Oh," said Charlie slightly hurt. "Okay. I understand." He stooped down and picked up his bag.

"No, Charlie," said Don running a hand through his hair finally reaching his maximum level of frustration. The case and their failed suspect had finally gotten to him, and the only person he could take his anger out at the time was Charlie.

"What?" said Charlie looking up at his brother confused.

"You don't," repeated Don a little louder. "You don't understand."

Charlie blinked a few times and stared back at his brother. "I'm sorry. I was just wanted to help."

The anger was still there. "Well," said Don louder, "you can't. You can't help at all." He didn't notice the hurt look on his brother's face as he continued. "You and your math and your equations can't help! Alright, you can't!" He slammed his hand down on his desk causing a few of the agents to look up and stare at them. Most of them looked away after they realized the two brothers, but a few of them let their stares linger. "Not every problem can be solved with math okay! We have a person who is killing FBI family members!" His mind was screaming at him that he wasn't angry at Charlie; that he was angry because of the case, but he didn't listen. "You can't help! Alright? You can't?"

Don looked up and saw the shell-shocked look on his brother's face. He watched as Charlie blinked his eyes a few times as he struggled to keep the tears in his eyes from falling. Charlie turned his attention to his backpack as he nervously adjusted the strap. "Okay," said Charlie quietly his voice breaking a bit. "I'll see you later." Don watched as his younger brother turned around and started to walk away. The sensible part of his mind was telling him to stop Charlie and apologize, but the frustrated part was still in control.

He looked back down at his desk and waited a minute knowing Terri would be over any second. "What the hell was that about!" demanded Terri angrily.

"Nothin'," answered Don.

"Nothin'?" said Terri. She hated the answer of "nothin'". "Nothin'! Did you see his face!"

"That was between me and Charlie," Don said back as calmly as he could. "Okay?"

"Don-," started Terri again. Apparently, she wasn't done being angry with him, but she was cut off by David.

"Sandra Buell is here," said David.

"Alright," said Don standing up quite happy for the excuse not to talk to Terri.

He hurried to where David had left the late Gary Bolin's girlfriend. Don took a good look at the woman who was waiting patiently for the agent or agents she was supposed to talk to. Sandra Buell had to be at least fifteen years younger Gary Bolin with long Brown hair and deep brown eyes. She wore an expensive looking black suit and a pair of heels that had to be murder to walk in. Sandra turned toward them and gave a flashy smile. Don guessed the smile was often used in business meetings. "I'm Sandra Buell," she said as she extended her hand. "I'm supposed to talk to someone about Gary."

Don shook the woman's hand bothered by her behavior. For someone who had just lost their boyfriend, she seemed to have quickly gotten over the grieving stage.

"Yeah," said Don. "I'm Agent Eppes. I need to ask you a few questions about Gary."

"Alright," said Sandra nodding, "but I'm in somewhat of a hurry. I have to be back at work soon, and I'm swamped with stuff home, and I have to start making the funeral-." She stopped suddenly taking a few deep breaths. "I have things I have to do," Sandra finally said. The businesswoman smile disappeared from her face.

"We'll try to do this as fast as possible," said Don.

"Thank you," said Sandra quietly.

"Would you come with me?" asked Don. She nodded and followed Don to the conference room. Sandra immediately took one of the seats, crossed her legs, and waited for him to ask her a question.

"How long had you and Gary been together?" Don asked first.

Sandra let out a deep breath as she thought. "Oh," she said. "I don't know. Maybe about four years. We got together about a year after he got divorced. Met him at my sister's third wedding."

Don nodded. "Were you guys togther the night he was killed?"

She looked away. "Yes," she replied quietly. "We went to dinner, and then, we met some friends of ours at a bar for drinks."

"Were you togther the whole night?" asked Don.

"No," said Sandra shaking her head. "I le-lef-left early." Her voice began to break. "My sister, Joanne, locked her husband out of her house and wanted me to come over. I told him I would be over in the morning."

"Do you know what time he left the bar?" asked Don. Sandra shook her head. "Did he have any enemies?"

"Gary?" said Sandra stunned. "No. Not at all. He was nice. He was funny. He'd give you the shirt off his back if you asked." She pushed back her hair from her face as she let out a sigh.

"Did you guys by chance know Chris Farrow?" asked Don hoping to draw a connection to their failing suspect.

"No," replied Sandra. "Never heard of him."

"What about Prue Boyd?" Don asked. Now, he hoped for a connection beyond both being related to FBI agents.

"No," replied Sandra. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," said Don. He looked at the woman for a second. "Thank you for coming in."

"You're welcome," said Sandra. "I really hope you find who did this."

"So do we," muttered Don disappointed that once again he had not come up with another lead. Sandra got up and walked out of the room while Don just watched. As soon as the door was shut, Don slammed his fist down on the table in anger and frustration.

XVIIIIV

Allison Lanskey dropped her purse in the chair near the door exhausted as she walked into her apartment. She hated coming home to her small empty apartment after a long day at work, but she and her husband had been divorced for fifteen years, and her daughter, Alicia, had moved out long ago after she graduated from FBI academy. She stretched as she looked around the space she called home. Four rooms, all painted the same off-white, neat and tidy, with a great view the LA industrial district.

Allison often thought about trying to start another relationship to fill the hole that seemed to have consumed her life, but never really gave it a try. She would normally work late at the hospital, she had been an emergency room nurse for nearly twenty-five years, and it didn't leave a lot of time for starting new relationships from scratch, especially at her age of 59.

Letting out a sigh, Allison collapsed onto the couch in her living. She grabbed the remote that was lying on the armrest and flipped on the television. After watching an old episode of _Friends_,one of her favorite shows, Allison found her eyes starting to drift shut. She fought the darkness for a few more minutes before finally giving.

In her tired state, Allison never noticed that her front door didn't close all the way, nor did she notice now that it was opening slowly as someone entered. She simply rolled onto her side in effort to block out a small squeak the door made. And, Allison never noticed the knife that the intruder had tucked in their jacket. He dipped a gloved hand into his pocket and pulled a note out. He set it on the arm of the couch, then, pulled the knife from its sheath ready to do his dirty work.

XVIIIIV

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I know it was long, but I had a lot of ideas. I also know that it was mean to have Don yell at Charlie, but it's for the story. Please forgive me.


	6. Chapter VI

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: DeadlyNightShade13

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: Back to my rhyme: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda? Not a great summary

Note: Sorry it took so long. That's all. Still looking for a beta.

**Blood Relatives**

Chapter Six

_"Alcohol is necessary for a man so that he can have a good opinion of himself, undisturbed by the facts." Finley Peter Dunne  
_

Don sat at the bar nursing his seventh beer. He felt like shit which was great compared to what he felt like when he first arrived at the bar. After his forth beer, the painful memory of the failed suspect and the harsh words he had said to his brother had started to numb. He had left work an hour and a half ago, entered the bar an hour ago, and hit drunk about ten minutes ago.

Don took a long drink of his beer and thought about the problems that had driven him there. _"We have no suspects," _Don thought to himself; that was followed by another drink. _"I can't believe Charlie came to the office." _Another one went down the hatch. _"I can't believe I yelled at him."_ He drained the rest of the beer.

_"You hurt him," _said the sensible part of Don's mind that hadn't been effected by the massive amount of alcohol. _"Shut up!" _the intoxicated part shouted back. _"He needs to grow up! He needs to realize the real world does not work the same as his precious little math world." _He set the empty bottle off to the side as his conscience continued to battle the alcohol. _"He just wanted to help." _The alcohol had nothing to say back. _"You've got to apologize."_ Don thought to himself for a moment. _"Shut up!" _was the seven beers last reply.

"You sure are knocking back those beers," said the bartender casually as he took the empty bottle.

"Ye-yeah," said Don, his speech slightly slurred. "S-sss-so?"

"Just pointing it out," retorted the bartender. He paused. "Do you want another one?"

"Yes," replied Don rubbing his forehead.

The bartender nodded and pulled out another bottle. He was about to set it down when a thought hit him, and he pulled the beer back. "You're not driving, are you?" he asked cautiously holding the drink as ransom for the answer.

Don looked up and glared at the man holding his drink. "No," replied Don angrily liking the man less and less.

"Good," said the bartender not one hundred percent sure he believed the drunk agent. He set down the drink.

Don opened it and took a long drink. He wasn't sure how many more drinks it would take before he would forget about the day, but he was pretty sure it would be the same number as when he couldn't find his way home.

XVIIIIV

Charlie parked his bike in the garage after a long trek home. Most people would be astounded that he had ridden through the heat, but to tell the truth, he'd barely even noticed it. He was still both surprised and hurt by the words his brother had said to him earlier. Charlie walked into his house through the back door.

Alan heard the door open from a spot in the living room and assumed it was Charlie. He looked up from the newspaper he was reading and waited for his youngest to enter the living room. "Hey, Charlie," said Alan as his son entered the room. "How was your day?"

"What?" said Charlie looking up startled at his father. "Oh, fine." He was a little too distracted to get too far into the conversation.

Alan studied his son for a moment, knowing something was wrong, but didn't say anything about his suspicions. It was probably another consulting job that Charlie couldn't, or didn't want to talk about. "I had to buy another paper today," said Alan still looking at Charlie. "Our's was missing. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Charlie looked from his father to the newspaper on his lap, then down to his feet, thinking about the newspaper tucked away in his backpack. "I took it to work with me today," Charlie mumbled in reply as he nervously gripped his backpack strap. "Sorry."

"That's alright," said Alan a little surprised by Charlie's answer. "Technically, it's your paper. It does go to your house. I've just been wondering where it was." He studied his son a moment longer, debating whether or not to ask his next question. He finally decided in favor of the question and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," replied Charlie a little too quickly not feeling like ratting out his big brother like a nine-year-old. "I'm fine." He gave his father a weak smile before walking out of the room to avoid any other questions his father might ask. He didn't want to give the real answers.

XVIIIIV

The man slid the quarter into the slot on the paper dispenser in front of the corner convenience store and pulled out a newspaper. As he walked down the dark LA sidewalk, he opened up the paper and searched for the article on Prue Boyd's death. The man finally found it two pages into the paper and smiled as he saw her picture. _"She was pretty,"_ he thought to himself. _"I'm almost sorry I had to kill her."_ He scoffed, then said aloud, "Almost." The man folded the paper back up and then tucked it beneath his arm. He would enjoy cutting out her photograph and article when he got back to his dorm.

XVIIIIV

Don woke up the next morning by a pounding noise. He sat up quickly grabbing his head. A bad headache was already making itself known, and Don figured it as the source of the pounding. He looked around his living room trying to remember the night before. Last night, he had collapsed on the couch after walking home from the bar. Even if he wanted to drive home, he wouldn't have been able to find his car.

The pounding continued, and it took Don another few seconds to realize that incessant, annoying, and painful noise wasn't coming from his head, but from the door. As Don stood up to answer it, he thought about how amazing it was that the pounding on the door seemed to match up with the pounding in his temples perfectly.

He stumbled through the living room, tripping over a pair of shoes, and finally reached the door as the unwanted early visitor knocked impatiently again. "I'm coming," said Don angrily as he grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door open. Terri stood with her arms crossed a look of sheer impatience on her face.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself," she said sarcastically.

Don glared at Terri as he let her into his apartment. There were days when he thought Terri knew him too well. He let the door close on it's own and turned toward Terri. She was studying him closely.

"You were late," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I came here to see where you were and was amazed to find as I was driving past a bar, your SUV parked outside. I'm just glad you didn't drive."

"What are you doing here?" asked Don as he stumbled back to the couch; Terri followed.

"There was another murder," replied Terri her voice becoming quiet for the moment. "I was wondering where the hell you were. Actually, I've been wondering a lot of things. Like, why the hell have you been such a jackass lately? Why did you get completely wasted last night! What in the world made you think you could treat your brother that way!"

"Stop!" Don screamed back. All the shouting was murder on his headache. "My head hurts!"

"Good!" Terri retorted. "It should!" She looked away from Don and ran a hand through her hair. "Are you okay, Don?"

"No," replied Don. "I told you my head hurts." He stood up again and headed toward his kitchen to get some aspirin.

"That's not what I mean, Don," said Terri following him. "You're not...you're not." She wasn't sure if she really wanted to tell him what she thought. Things had been going better between them, though neither of them had said anything, but now she wasn't sure what was going on with Don. "You're not taking this case well," Terri finally said. She watched as Don opened the aspirin bottle, but didn't say anything. "Don?"

"What?" asked Don. He popped the two pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry.

"Just wondering if you heard me," replied Terri.

There was another pause. "I heard," Don finally said. He massaged his forehead as the headache continued to pound in his temples. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are," said Terri sarcastically. "Now, why did you yell at Charlie?"

"I was just frustrated," answered Don, "and he wasn't helping."

"So screaming and practically declaring him useless was supposed to be what?" said Terri sardonically. "A gentle hint that you weren't in the mood to talk?" She crossed her arms and stared at Don. He didn't answer. "You have to apologize to him."

"No, I don't," said Don.

"Fine," said Terri pissed by the response. "You don't have to, but you should."

Don ignored her. "You said there was another murder."

Terri sighed in frustration. "Yeah," she said. "Hurry up and get ready. We're going straight to the crime scene."

Don nodded and went to get a quick shower hoping to wake himself and try and clear up his headache. He hated feeling hungover and like his head was stuffed with cotton, but what he hated more was the feeling of guilt that had made it's new home in the pit of his stomach.

XVIIIIV

Det. Greene shook his head as he stared at the woman's corpse that was still lying on the couch. It was a third killing with the throat completely slashed through, the third killing with a note for the FBI, and another reference to her family. A birthday card was lying on the woman's chest. The cover had been slashed a few times and dipped in the blood. This guy was sick. The Crime Scene Division wasn't finished with their initial investigation, and the ME hadn't arrived yet. He hated when no one was able to do their job right because of one late worker.

"What've you got, Carol?" Det. Greene asked of the crime scene investigators. She was a short blonde woman he had known since he was a rookie. Det. Greene knew she could do her job right and trusted every bit of information she ever gave him.

"Well," said Carol standing up. She had been kneeling by the corpse shaking her head at the violence that had taken place. "I don't even think she was awake when it happened," explained the woman with a sigh. "She might have of woke up for a few seconds after her throat was slashed, but then again, my specialty is just looking for clues."

Det. Greene then asked a question that had nagged his mind at all of the crime scenes. "Did she suffer?"

Carol shrugged. "Maybe," she said sadly, "but I don't know for sure."

Det. Greene nodded and let the woman get back to work. He stepped closer to the couch and looked down at the card. _"A bloody birthday card," _Det. Greene thought to himself. He scoffed. _"Those words should not be allowed in the same sentence together." _Titling his head slightly, he tried to read the print of the card without picking it up. "'Happy 59th, Mom. I hope it's as memorable as last year's, Love Allie. PS: Carrot Cake,'" Det. Greene read aloud.

"I think that last part is an inside joke," said Carol. Det. Greene looked down at her, and she returned his glance with a wan smile.

"Det. Greene," said a nervous voice from behind him. He turned to see the rookie cop who had been one of the first to arrive at the scene standing next to Don and Terri.

"Hello again, agents," said Det. Greene bitterly as he turned back to the woman.

"Det. Greene," said Don. He winced slightly. His hangover was making his voice sound thirty times louder than it actually was. He looked at the bloody scene on the couch blinking a few times.

"What was her name?" asked Terri staring also.

"Allison Lanskey," replied Det. Greene as he allowed the two agents to take in the crime scene. "Neighbor found her this morning. They came out to go to work and saw her door open, came in and found her. She's been dead about nine hours. If you can't tell, it looks like her throat was slit." Don glared at the police detective not appreciating his sarcasm about the woman's death.

"What's that on her chest?" asked Terri pointing to the blood mass of paper; next to it was another note addressed to the FBI.

"Birthday card," said Carol as she stood up nodding to the two agents. They stared at her obviously confused, and she dove into her best explanation. "I think," she stared obviously not wanting to make her superior mad by making her ideas fact, "the killer walked in, found her on the couch, killed her, and then went to get a picture off the wall. He wouldn't want to risk her waking up while he was looking for a souvenir." Don raised an eyebrow; a birthday card was not a picture. "There's a wall family portrait lying on the phone table in their," explained Carol pointing to the hallway. "When the killer saw the birthday card, which was probably lying on the table too, they probably decided that would have a better affect."

Don and Terri looked between the woman and Det. Greene. "Carol's a smart woman," said Det. Greene when he noticed the two agent's stares. "Crime scenes are her specialty."

"You talk to any of her neighbors yet?" Don asked the detective.

"Just the one that found her," replied Det. Greene noticing Don winced at his voice; he ignored it though. "He said she normally keeps to herself. Gets home late most of the time. Said she as an emergency room nurse. That was all he could tell us." Don and Terri watched as Det. Greene pulled the sleeve of his suit jacket over his hand and grabbed the note by the corner. "I believe this belongs to you," said Det. Greene as he handed it to them.

Don grabbed the note carefully by the corner and held it up so both he and Terri could read it.

_"FBI,_

_ I see I finally have your attention. Unfortunately, _

_ it's seven years to late. You seem to be hot on my _

_ trail so I'm going to have to cut this note short. _

_ Still not waiting anymore."_

"He's getting cocky," said Terri when she was done reading. "He's gonna make a mistake soon. This is a very well-planned revenge, but he's getting over confident."

"He already made a mistake," said Don as he handed the note to Terri. "The second line," he said as he massaged his forehead; his headache was coming back with a vengeance. He noticed that Terri cast him glance out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't say anything.

Terri re-read the line and realized what Don was talking about. "Whatever he's getting revenge for took place seven years ago," said Terri. "That definitely narrows it down." She handed the note back to Don.

"Not to be too nosy," said Det. Greene trying to sound casual, "but the last two time murders, you said the victim was related to an agent. Who was she related to?"

"Allison Lanskey," said Don thinking about the name. He couldn't place it to any agent he knew. "I don't know." He shook his head tiredly.

"What about you?" the detective asked Terri. "Do you know them?"

Terri shook her head, too. "No, I don't."

"Too bad," said Det. Greene with a shrug. "I already have some of my people trying to find her next of kin." He looked at the two agents. "So...have you guys got any leads?"

Don didn't answer, and Terri sighed in frustration at Don's stubbornness. "No," replied Terri. "Not at the moment, but we're working on it."

Det. Greene nodded and turned to stare at Don. "What's your problem?" he asked bluntly.

"People asking questions where the answers are none of their business," retorted Don quickly. "Like you."

"Touchy," said Det. Greene giving Don a mocking smile. Don glared back and was about to tell the detective off when a young cop walked over to Det. Greene and pulled him off to the side. Don and Terri watched as the two spoke in hushed tones.

"You're not making friends," said Terri.

"He started it," muttered Don as the detective's voice raised.

"You found them that fast?" said Det. Greene; the young cop nodded. "Really?" The young cop gave a faint smile, and Det. Greene walked back over to the two agents.

"They found her family," said Det. Greene. "She has a sister, an ex-husband, and a daughter, but either that's all they can find, or that's all there is."

Terri nodded. "Thank you," she said as politely as she could. Like Don, she didn't care much for the slightly arrogant, but without any leads, they could use his help.

The detective quickly wrote down the names the young cop had giving him and then handed the page to Don. He walked away without so much as an another word. He didn't care much for the agents like they didn't care much for him. Don looked at the names before folding the page and putting it in his pocket.

XVIIIIV

Charlie and Amita sat in the in his office slowly making their way through the stacks of finals. With four classes worth of work to grade, a dent had to be made now so they would be graded in time. However, Amita had noticed how unusually quiet Charlie was and how distracted he seemed to be. It was taking him twice as long as it usually did to grade a test which was an amazing feat. Charlie normally took forever to grade a test anyway, always writing notes to the student in the margins, but this time taking was different. His lack of speed now seemed to be due to a lack of concentration.

Amita looked up and stared at the mathematician; he was looking blankly at the test in front of him not doing a thing. "How are they doing?" asked Amita trying to bring Charlie back down to Earth.

Charlie looked up suddenly and stared back at Amita confused. She pointed at the test to indicate what she was talking about. "Oh," said Charlie looking back down at the test; not a red mark had been made. "Good," replied Charlie nodding quickly. "Good." He pulled the paper back so Amita couldn't see that he hadn't even begun to grade it.

"Are you okay, Charlie?" asked Amita studying him carefully due to his strange behavior.

"Yeah," answered Charlie nodding again. He didn't look up at her. People often told him he was a terrible liar and looking them in the eyes only made it easier to tell when he was lying.

"Are you sure?" asked Amita still unconvinced. "Is there something bothering you?"

Charlie scoffed, but shook his head. _"My brother thinks I'm useless," _Charlie thought to himself, _"but other than that, nothing's bothering me. I'm great." _His sarcastic thoughts stung as he thought back to the fight between Don and him, but he kept quiet about it. "No," he replied. "I'm fine." To try and prove it, Charlie went back to grading the final making sure to write extensive notes on the margins like normal.

XVIIIIV

Don and Terri walked through the sweltering heat toward the office building. The heat wave had not broken like the weatherman had predicted the day before, but had done the exact opposite. The temperature had actually risen to the hottest it had been since the heat wave started and was hitting amazing temperatures for late May.

"We're going to run these names," said Don as they walked into the air-conditioned offices relishing the cool air. "See if we can find any connections."

"See if we can find who she was related to," added Terri.

Don looked back at her and then nodded. His headache made itself know with a sudden sharp pain, and Don grabbed his head hissing in pain.

"Maybe that hangover is our conscience's way of telling you to apologize to your brother," said Terri as she crossed her arms.

"Subtle," muttered Don sarcastically glaring at her. "I believe it's my head's way of telling me not to drink so much."

"You've got to apologize to him some time," said Terri still trying to convince Don. "Who knows? Despite what you said yesterday, we might need his help on this case; we will need his help on others." Don didn't respond. He merely handed the page with the names to Terri and walked away.

XVIIIIV

I know it took awhile, but you can't rush art. I hope you enjoyed it. The lines "Stop! My head hurts!" and "Good! It should!" belong to my cousin, Lorah, (Author name, shanelover89.) I will be leaving in a few days to go canoeing so, I won't be writing.


	7. Chapter VII

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: DarkSideCookie

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: Back to my rhyme: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: I'm back! Sorry, it's taken so long, but I had a spell of writer's block and I've been pretty busy.

This chapter ends pretty abrupt, but it was the best place to end it. Don't expect another chapter for while. Byes!

**Blood Relatives**

Chapter Seven

_"Speak when you are angry, and you will make the best speech you'll ever regret__." Laurence J. Peter_

"Farrow has officially been cleared as a suspect," said David as he tossed a folder onto Don's desk. "The coroner's report said that Prue Boyd was killed at 9:40 PM. Farrow punched in at work at nine and didn't leave till five AM. There are witnesses that can prove it."

"Dammit," muttered Don taking his anger out on his desk by hitting it. It wasn't that Don still suspected him of the killings, but the confirmation that their only suspect was innocent was still a bad blow.

"I do have good news though," said David, "if you want to call it that. We found out who Allison Lanskey was related to."

Don looked up at him. "You're right, I don't know if that is good news or bad news, but I'll take any news I can get right. Who is it?"

"Alicia Grey," said David pointing to the folder he had just handed Don. She's a special Ops Agent with six years of work. Pretty notable agent."

"Has she been notified?" asked Don with a sigh.

"Yeah," replied David. "We caught her just before she was about to leave for a case in San Francisco. We can only get her on the phone, but it's better than nothing."

"Has she been informed?"

"No," replied David, shaking his head.

"I get the fun job," muttered Don sarcastically as he got to his feet.

"Conference room," said David gesturing down the hall.

"Thanks," said Don as he started off in the direction of the room. He massaged his forehead attempting to ward off a headache that was beginning to form there.

"We got her on line one," said Terri who had fallen in step with.

"God," said Don jumping back as he set his hand on his chest. "You scared me." He hadn't seen her show up.

"Sorry," muttered Terri. "Didn't mean, too. Grey is on line one, but she's getting pretty impatient. Her flight leaves in thirty minutes."

Don sighed. "I don't think this is gonna take that long."

Terri nodded in agreement as they entered the conference room; the phone was sitting on the table, the light blinking, looking more and more foreboding as they walked up to it.

Taking a deep breath, Don picked up the receiver and pressed the button for line one. "Agent Grey?" he said into the phone.

"Please," said the woman's voice on the other end. "Call me Alicia."

"Okay, Alicia," Don corrected himself. "Could you hold on while I switch to speaker phone. Agent Lake is in here, too."

"Alright," said Alicia.

Don hit the speaker phone button and hung up the phone. "You still there, Alicia."

"Yes," replied Alicia. It was easy to hear the underline agitation in her voice. "I'm sorry to sound rude, but if there is any possible way to hurry this up, can we please do so? I have a flight to catch."

"Alicia," said Terri. "We're sorry to have to tell you this, but we have some bad news about your mother."

There was a long pause from the other end, and silence filled the conference room. "Wha-wha-what?" She paused again. "Does this have something to do with those murders that have been happening?"

"Unfortunately, yes," replied Don.

"Oh God!" shouted the woman from the other end; Don and Terri could hear her begin to sob. They knew she did not need to hear the rest of the explanation to know what had happened. "Oh God! Mom!"

"We're very sorry, Alicia," said Terri sympathetically; Don was staring blankly at the phone taken by surprise by Alicia's reaction.

"We wer-wer-were fighting," said Alicia as she continued to sob. She took in a gasping breath. "We go-go-got into huge fight last week!" Alicia stammered out. "I-I-I never got to say-say sorry! God!"

"We're very sorry," said Don after the woman had calmed down enough that she could hear them. He took a deep breath before continuing. "We need to ask you some questions."

Alicia took a deep breath, and Don and Terri could hear her swallow loudly. "Oh-okay."

XVIIIIV

Don and Terri walked down the cider-block walled halls of CalSci toward Charlie's classroom. The guilty feeling in his gut seemed to get worse the closer he got to his little brother's room. It was the same feeling he used to get whenever he had to apologize to his brother when they were kids; anger mixed with resentment and a lot of guilt. He had always gotten in trouble when he was younger for making his brother cry, and it felt like he was being forced to say he was sorry again. Only now, it wasn't his parents who were making him apologize, but Terri. He was kidding himself. The only person he was here because of was himself.

"I'm going to go get something to drink," said Terri pointing down the hall with her thumb. She wanted to give the two brothers some privacy, and she didn't want Charlie to think that she had been the one to force Don down to the school. It had been Don's idea to make a trip to CalSci, right after Alicia Grey had broken down because of the fight with her mother. Terri had a feeling that had played a role in Don's need to apologize.

"Alright," said Don with a quick nod. Don sighed as he walked down the hall the rest of the way to his brother's classroom. He looked through the window of the door and stared at his younger brother who was hunched over his desk hurriedly writing something down on a sheet of paper.

Don took a deep breath as he grasped the doorknob. He knew Charlie would most likely forgive him; Charlie had always forgiven him, but Don still found himself praying silently that this time would not be any different. The handle turned, Don wasn't even aware he had done it, and the door opened slowly.

Don stepped into the classroom trying his best to make noise to get his brother's attention. The one student who was left taking her final heard him and looked up, but Charlie was too engrossed in his work to notice anything. With a sigh, Don took a spot off to the side waiting for the student to finish her test. He knew he couldn't talk to his brother while their was a student in the room. One, it would disturb the student, and two, Don didn't really want to apologize to his brother in front of an audience. Having Terry in the room would have been bad enough, Don was glad she excused herself for a drink, but a complete stranger would be just plain awkward in this already slightly embarrassing situation for Don.

After a few minutes, the girl stood up and gathered her things up off the desk. Don breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to his brother's desk. "Charlie?" said Don quietly not wanting to startle his brother. Charlie didn't reply; he continued scrawling notes down on the final in front of him. The were equations written all over the page that Don knew he wouldn't understand along with explanations he figured he wouldn't understand either. That's one of the things he hated most about his brother's world; he never understood most of it.

"Excuse me?" said the student as she brushed past him in order to get to the desk.

"Sorry," murmured Don taking a step back. The student dropped her test on the desk and walked out of the classroom. Charlie picked up the test, Don was pretty sure he was only aware of it because it came dangerously close to covering what he was working on, and watched as the student walked out of the classroom.

He turned back toward the front and finally noticed his older brother standing there. "Oh. He-hey, Don," said Charlie nervously as he looked back down at his work.

"Hey, Charlie," Don replied looking down at his feet not quite sure how to start the apology. "What have you been up to?" He thought it would be best if he tried to start a conversation.

"Working on finals," replied Charlie without looking up. "That girl who just left was my last student who needed to finish their final."

"That's good," said Don nodding. He knew his brother was trying to keep the conversation short, and he couldn't blame him. "Charlie, I need to talk to you."

"You got something you want to add?" asked Charlie bitterly. The words simply slipped out, and Charlie was barely even aware that he had said them.

Don looked back down to his shoes. The words had stung a bit, but what made it worse was the fact Charlie had every right to say them. "No," replied Don. "I want to apologize for what I said at the office the other day." He looked up and noticed that his brother's shoulders had tensed, but Charlie remained silent still staring down at the final. "I was just stressed out from the case and our only lead fell through, and our one suspect was a bust, and-and Charlie?" He realized that during his entire spiel Charlie had not bothered to looked up from the test in front of him. His brother didn't respond when Don called his name. "Charlie!"

"What?" asked Charlie quietly not looking up.

"I'm trying to apologize here!" Don nearly shouted.

"I know." The response was short and quiet and surprised Don. "It-it's okay."

"It's not okay, Charlie!" Don took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself back down. After a few seconds, he continued. "Charlie, I know it may not seem like it, but I wasn't angry at you."

Charlie stopped writing for a moment, but before Don could say anything else, the pen was moving along the paper again. "Who were you mad at then?"

Don let out a sigh of frustration. "I don't know," replied Don as he ran a hand over his face. "I think I was just mad." He noticed once again his brother was still looking down.

"It's okay," muttered Charlie unconvincingly.

"Charlie, it's not okay," said Don frustrated. "Charlie?" No response. "Would you look at me, Charlie!"

His brother slowly raised his head and looked up Don. He tried to avoid his eyes though. "Is something wrong?" asked Charlie nervously.

"Yes, there's something wrong!" retorted Don angrily. "I cam here today to try and fucking apologize, and you're not even paying attention!"

"I wa-was paying attention," stammered out Charlie.

"You were writing out notes on that final," said Don his tone much calmer. There was no need to get into another fight with his brother.

"I-I ha-have to get these done," explained Charlie as he twisted his pen nervously around in his hand. "Besides, it's okay."

"No, Charlie," said Don with a sigh. "It's not okay. I can tell by what you said when I got here that it's not okay."

Charlie turned toward the window still trying to avoid looking directly at Don. "It just slipped out," said Charlie.

"It came from somewhere though," said Don as he stepped back and sat down on the top of a desk.

"So did what you said," muttered Charlie. These words were bitter like the others.

"I deserved that," said Don embarrassedly as he look at his feet. He looked back up at his brother after a minute and continued. "I really am sorry, Charlie," said Don trying to drive that point into Charlie's head. "I feel terrible about what I said to you, but you've got to understand what's been going on at work." He paused to take a deep breath. "I know what you've read in the paper, but there is a lot more to it that just a serial killer. All the people who've been killed, every one of the victims, has been a family member of an FBI agent." Charlie's head turned away from the window, and he finally looked directly at his brother. His face was a mask of disbelief.

_"Is that why all the names sounded familiar?" _Charlie thought to himself as Don continued.

"All I've been thinking about for the past few days is 'What if you or Dad are next?'" Don said with a sigh. He was pouring out to his little brother what he hadn't told anyone else. "How the Hell am I supposed to live with myself if that happens? This case has just been getting to me, and the day you came to the office, we had just lost our only suspect, and I was frustrated. At that moment, the only thing I could take my anger out on was you, and I really am sorry." Don concluded his apology with a deep sigh.

For a long time, Charlie was silent. His face had lost the look of disbelief, but it had been replaced with the look of hurt. Don was worried that his apology wasn't going to be enough, but he than saw his brother getting ready to speak. "So, I was like a verbal punching bag?" said Charlie his voice bother quiet and hesitant.

"To put it bluntly," said Don with a sad shrug; his brother laughed a little at the response. "I'm really sorry about what I said," Don again when his brother failed once again to reply.

"I told you," said Charlie returning one of his brother's shrugs. "It's okay."

Don was still unconvinced. "It wasn't okay," retorted Don; he now had to swallow his pride, "especially since I was wrong." That caught his brother's attention. "Charlie," continued Don, "I-we...We need you help."

XVIIIIV

Terri walked down the hall carrying a bottle of water. After ten minutes of searching, she had finally found a vending machine on the north end of the school. She was on her way back to Charlie's classroom wondering if the two brothers had made up. She saw the door to Charlie's classroom was open, and she stopped when she heard Don's voice. Terry mulled over the morals of eavesdropping for a moment and then took a spot a few feet down from the door.

"All I've been thinking about for the pass few days is 'What if you ire Dad are next?'" Terri head Don say. She swore she heard his voice brake a little. "How the Hell am I supposed to live with myself if that happens? This case had just been getting to me." Terri sighed as her suspicions were confirmed. She listened silently to the rest of Don's apology feeling guilty that she was.

"I-we...We need your help," Don stammered out. Terri figured that was a good enough cue to enter.

"Hey, Charlie," said Terri as she walked into the near empty classroom. Don and Charlie were both seated at the front of the room; Don on top of a desk and Charlie is his deskchair. A look of sheer surprise was planted on Charlie's face, and Terri figured it had something to do with Don asking for his help.

"Hey, Terri," Charlie finally said after a minute lull in the conversation.

"What do you say, Charlie?" asked Don before his brother could forget he asked the question. He wasn't sure of he asked Charlie for help again, but he knew he didn't want to ask in front of Terri.

Charlie turned back toward Don and stared at him for a minute. He looked like he was struggling to come up with an answer. "Okay," said Charlie after the tension in the classroom became too much to bare. Don and Terri breathed out a sigh of relief they had both been unconsciously holding.

"Good," said Don as a real smile slipped onto his face for the first time in days. "Good."

XVIIIIV

Sorry, it's taken so long, but writer's block is a terrible thing. I hope you liked it. Byes!


	8. Chapter VIII

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: DarkSideCookie

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: Back to my rhyme: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: **I NEED A BETA! PLEASE! **This is one of those chapters where it's basically boring information that is needed for the story to make sense. I hate to write them, but's needed. Please Enjoy.

**Blood Relatives**

Chapter Eight

"There is no tragedy like the death of a child. Things never go back to the way they were." _Dwight David Eisenhower_

Don, Terri, David, Charlie, and an agent, Claire Brock, who had been assigned to the case from another office all sat in the conference room trying to find a common link between the agents whose family members had been murdered. Agent Brock was from the same office as Joe Boyd and had been assigned to the case the day before. Files covered the table, and Charlie was reading through several trying to find anyway to link them. No equation, no situation, and no pattern that he applied seemed to make them work.

"Alicia Grey and Alec Bolin both worked on the Fromm case three months ago," said Brock as she pushed a stray strand of black hair out of her face.

"But that leaves out Joe Boyd," said David. "There is no one case that all three of the agents worked on."

"Maybe it was a type of case they worked on," suggested Don. "Maybe they've all worked on a murder or a drug case."

"But that would leave just about every agent in the city open," said Terri, disputing Don's idea. "They've narrowed it down more than that. This person is methodical, intelligent, and arrogant. The arrogance, however, has worked in our favor; whatever he's trying to get revenge for happened seven years ago." She took a breath. "This person is acting through a child's mind. They're smart, but they're reverting probably to the age that whatever happened happened. They see what they're doing as a to the FBI punishment for whatever they think we did wrong; the notes are like explanation to our punishment."

"But we still don't know what happened," said Don; he looked over at his brother and saw Charlie hunched over a file. Their conversation seemed to be lost on him; Don hoped that meant he was onto something.

The information in the files was beginning to blur, and Charlie was getting frustrated. He couldn't find anyway to connect the three agents together. For a moment, Charlie thought something clicked in his head, and he reached down for Alicia Grey's file to compare it to Alec Bolin's.

Don watched with interest as Charlie pulled a sheet of paper from both folders and then picked up Joe Boyd's. "You got something, Charlie?" asked Don quietly, not wanting to get the hopes up of the others.

Charlie remained silent for a moment and then set the papers back into the folders. He let out a sigh as he shook his head. "No," said Charlie dejectedly. "I don't."

"Hey, Charlie," said David suddenly, breaking off his conversation with Terri and Agent Brock. "Can I see those files for a sec?"

Charlie nodded and put the papers back in their correct folders before pushing them across the table to David. He studied the folders for a moment, perfectly aware that everyone in the room was watching him, and then set them back to the table. "Each one of the agents worked on a highly publicized case," said David.

Terri, Don, Charlie, and Agent Brock stared at David as he spoke. "Each one of them worked on a publicized case, and each case was covered by the news. Maybe the killer is finding them based on agents mentioned in the media, like in the paper or on the news."

"We've been assuming that the killer has access to private information and files," Terri chimed in. "But if they don't know who they're looking for, they couldn't get this information. They would have to find out another way. Like through the media."

"But how are they getting the information on the families?" asked Don.

"Hacking?" suggested Agent Brock with a shrug of her shoulders.

"To get into these files, you'd have to be an expert or something, and you'd need a strong computer," said Don, "an ordinary desktop or laptop wouldn't do it."

"So we're looking for someone who's smart, who has access to a strong computer, and wants revenge for something that happened seven years ago," said David. "Now, how many possibilities could there be?"

"What we need to find out is how many possibilities there are for agents," said Don. He picked up the folders that David had set down and scanned the information quickly for the publicized cases.

"Grey's cases happened six months ago," said Don, "and Bolin's case and Boyd's cases happened after that. If we go back one year and check media for agents mentioned, we should have a pretty good guess."

"That's gonna be a lot of work," said Terri, "and there could a lot of agents."

Don shrugged. "It's the only lead we got."

Charlie watched the scene as the four agents feeling sorry for himself and ashamed of it. Even after Don's apology, he still felt useless. He sighed and continued listening as the agents talked.

XVIIIIV

Cases were piling up on his desk, but Det. Paul Greene could not get his mind to focus on any of them. The only cases that held any precedence in his mind were the three murders that had been handed over to the FBI. _"Why does all this seem familiar?" _Greene thought to himself as he tapped his pen against the open manilla folder.

As if by magic, realization hit him, and Greene rose from his desk. He was in search of an old casefile from seven years ago, when he was still a rookie. He exited his office and walked down the hall to the records room.

"What can I do you for, Paul?" asked Casey Jones, the old, obese cop who seemed to keep watch over the room. A McDonalds' bag was sitting on his desk, and Greene could smell the remnants of a burger.

"I need the Hackett case file," replied Greene walking over to one of the file cabinets. He pulled it open and immediately started to search.

"Slow down there, Paul." Casey hurried over and tried to stop him from messing up the files. "It's not in there."

"Where is it?"

"Next cabinet over," replied Casey. "Why you after it?"

"I just am." He shut the first cabinet and moved over to the one next to it. Greene jerked open the drawer and quickly thumbed through the files for the Hackett case. Finding it dead center of the drawer, Greene grabbed it and slammed the drawer shut. He left the room leaving Casey in stunned silence.

File tucked under his arm, Greene returned to his office. He collapsed heavily into his desk chair. Setting down the folder, Greene opened the file and stared down at the information before him.

He had been reading for several minutes, blocking out the world around him, when a voice startled him out of his thoughts. "The Hackett case?" said a voice from over his shoulder. Sucking in a gasp of surprise, he turned his head and stared straight into the face of his partner, Tina Kraus.

"Don't do that," said Greene turning back toward the folder.

"Were you on that case?" asked Tina pointing to the folder as she sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. Everyone had heard of the Hackett case; an unsolved murder of a family of seven was not something easily forgotten.

Greene shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "I was a first respondent," he replied. "I'll never forget it. I get there and walk into the house, and it's just a slaughter-house. The mom, the dad, and their daughter are lying in the living; each one of them had their throat slashed. I thought I was gonna puke. I keep going, and I head upstairs. The first door is open, and I look in. Two boys are in there; they had both been shot."

"God," said Tina quietly; she had heard about the case, but she had never been told a first hand account.

"Then, I start to think I'm hearing things," Greene continued. "I swore that I could hear crying. I go down the hall to another open door; it was a nursery, and sitting in there on the floor is this fifteen-year-old kid bawling his eyes out. An old woman, their grandmother, is in this rockin' chair. Her throat was slashed too, and in the crib's a baby...she had been smothered."

Tina looked down and quickly wiped her eyes before her partner could see.

"One kid," said Greene after a long pause. "A family of eight, and that kid was the only one left. Can you imagine what that would feel like?"

"Why wasn't he killed?"

"Kid spent the night at a friend's house," answered Greene "Wasn't home when it happened." He shook his head. "I can't believe we never caught the sick bastard that did it."

"Why didn't you?"

"The FBI took the case thinking it was the same guy as some serial killer they were after. The M.O.'s were pretty close, but when they finally caught the guy, he wouldn't admit to the Hackett murders, and they couldn't connect him. So, the case was dropped back into our laps, and by then, the trail was cold,"

"Where did the kid end up?"

"The last I knew, he was living with his grandparents on his mother's side, and he's going to college. Some science or math school. He graduated top of class in high school." Tina stared at Greene confused. "I kind of kept track of him."

"Oh," said Tina with a nod. "You never did tell me though. Why'd you get out that file?"

Greene looked down at the folder and fingered the corner of the papers. "I don't know," replied Green "I don't."

Tine shrugged and stood up to leave his office. "I'll see you later, Paul."

"Bye." He gave her an absent-minded wave and continued to stare at the folder. Suddenly, he opened his top left drawer and started searching for an old piece of paper. Greene knew he had the Hackett kid's grandparents' number around there somewhere. Finding it at the bottom of the drawer, Greene pulled it out and grabbed the phone on his desk. He punched in the numbers and waited as the phone rang.

"Hello?" said a woman's voice on the other end.

"Hello? Mrs. Paige?" said Greene politely.

"Yes."

"My name is Det. Paul Greene. I was wondering if I could talk to Kade Hackett."

XVIIIIV

Brendan Lancaster hurried around his apartment listening to "You Get What You Give", an old song by the New Radicals. He had a date that night with some guy one his co-workers had set him up with. Most of the people at his office had been thrown off when they found out he was gay, but a few had been fine about it. His friend, Elise, had even set him up with a friend of hers, and Brendan, to be polite, had agreed. He wasn't big on blind dates, but Elise had gone to a lot of trouble for him.

As he hurried around his living room searching for his shoes, the doorbell rang, "Coming!" shouted Brendan as he ran to the door thinking his date was there. Brendan sighed when he saw his shoes sitting by the door and grabbed the doorknob. He was shocked to see, when he opened the door, a man standing at the door holding a gun.

"Oh my God!" shouted Brendan as he backed up into his apartment. The man walked in too and shut the door behind him. Brendan opened his mouth to shout when the man pulled the trigger. A bullet entered Brendan Lancaster's chest and silenced him immediately.

The man smiled to himself as he watched Brendan fall to the floor. The song played through the entire ordeal.

_This whole damn world can fall apart  
You'll be ok, follow your heart  
You're in harms way I'm right behind  
Now say you're mine.  
_

That man stepped up to the body and stared down at it. A flash from his past hit him, and Brendan's body was replaced momentarily by his brother's, Carter.

_What's real can't die  
You only get what you give  
Just don't be afraid to leave  
Health insurance rip off lying FDA big bankers buying  
Fake computer crashes dining  
Cloning while they're multiplying  
Fashion mag shoots  
with the aid of 8 dust brothers, Beck Hanson  
Courtney Love, and Marilyn Manson  
You're all fakes  
Run to your mansions  
Come around  
We'll kick your ass in! _

The man knelt down and set the note on the body. He stood back up, admiring his work. Brendan's eyes were still open, and he was staring lifelessly at the ceiling. The man stared at Brendan's body a moment longer and then walked out the apartment door. The song continued to play.

_Championed by a soulless media misleading  
people unaware they're bleeding  
No one with a brain is believing  
It's so sad you lost the meaning  
Never knew it anyway  
Human nature's so predictable  
I'm a fool to do your dirty work whoa, whoa.  
_

XVIIIIV

I hope you enjoyed it. **STILL NEED A BETA! IF YOU WANT TO BETA FOR ME, EMAIL ME!**


	9. Chapter IX

Title: Blood Relatives

Author:Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: Back to my rhyme: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: Let me explain something that a reviewer pointed out to me. Charlie does not know the names from the paper as FBI agent's families. He just thinks they sound familiar. You know how it is when you know you know a name, but don't know why. Note for chapter 8: I like to reveal things to the readers before the characters find out. Be forewarned; for part of this chapter, I have a very high fever, and it might affect what I write. It probably won't though. I finally got my Numb3rs poster. YAY!. Ah, the perks of being a teacher's daughter. Got bored and changed my name again. I like it. Roth. I apologize if I offend anyone with the content of this chapter. I would like to thank my betas Willy and Marie for working on this chapter, any leftover mistakes are my own.

**Blood Relatives **

Chapter Nine

_"Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better." Samuel Beckett_

Don was so sick of the same scene. Another call from Det. Paul Greene meant another murder with a note for the FBI. Terri and Don walked through the muggy, hot morning toward the apartment building; the temperature was in the high 90's, and the weather channel had predicted it would hit one hundred before noon.

Don pulled open the building's door and relished the cool burst of air. Terri walked through the door, and Don followed. A few uniformed officers were standing around the lobby interviewing a few residents. Flashing their badges as they walked past the officers, Don and Terri walked up to the elevator doors and pushed the button.

"Did Det. Greene give you any information?" asked Terri, leaning against the wall.

"No much," replied Don. "Just that there was a different M.O., but another note. Since the notes haven't been released to the public, we're dealing with the same guy."

The elevator dinged , and the doors slid open beckoning Don and Terri to the bloody scene on the floor above.

"What was the M.O.?" "He didn't say," replied Don. "Just that it was different."

The elevator climbed while Don and Terri stood in silence. It was an uncomfortable ride; the car was muggy and the silence almost unbearable.

Relief came when the doors opened, and Don and Terri excited the elevator. Cops were filing in and out of an open apartment; people were staring at them from their open apartment doors.

When Don and Terri entered the apartment, they easily spotted Det. Green looming over the cops, and it was evident, by the look of agitation on his face, that the detective had spotted them too.

Greene said something to one of his officers that Don and Terri were too far away to hear, and walked. "I don't mean to sound cliché," said Greene, giving the agents a curt nod, "but we've got to stop meeting like this."

Don rolled his eyes at the cop's sardonic humor, and Terri released a stressed sigh. "What have you got this time?" demanded Don not wanting to make small talk with the detective.

Greene's smile dropped, and he shook his head. "His name was Brendan Lancaster, age twenty-five, and before you start trying to figure who he was related to, relax. There's no need. She's here."

"What?" said Terri shocked. Don was stunned.

"I said 'she's here,'" repeated Greene; he had clearly been anticipating the reaction. "Agent Darci Lancaster was the first person to find him."

"Where is she?" demanded Don when the initial shock of the situation had passed.

"Neighbor's apartment," replied Greene, sounding just as authoritative as Don had, "but before you go barging in there, you might want to take a look around here. Make sure you have all your facts straight." He glared at Don.

"You said there was a different M.O.," said Terri, feeling a need to give the two men a distraction.

"Yeah," said Greene still glaring at Don. "He was shot; it was the note that made us call you."

"Shot?" said Terri confused.

"Did I stutter?" retorted Greene quickly; he then bit back his tongue. He didn't mind Agent Lake and decided not to start a fight with her. "A small caliber weapon, handgun. We won't know for sure until after the autopsy though."

"There's nothing else to go on?" asked Don, taking a quick glance around Greene to try and get a look at the body which was lying a little farther down the hallway.

"No," answered Greene. "There was only one shot fired."

He turned his back to the agents and headed back to the body; Don and Terri close behind. The scene wasn't nearly as gruesome as the others, but it was still horrifying in the fact a psychopath was still after the family members of FBI agents.

Brendan Lancaster's eyes were staring lifelessly at the ceiling, and a bullet hole in his chest told the story of his last few seconds alive. Another note was lying in the middle of his chest along with a letter.

"What's it say?" asked Don, crouching down to get a look at it; the lettering was still too small to read.

"Take a look for yourself," said Greene handing Don a latex glove.

Don pulled on the glove and picked the note up by the corner. It was the same as all the others: plain computer paper cut down to note card size, and the message had been typed out, but the words on this one seemed so much darker.

_"FBI,_

_You have the amazing ability to make it to every crime scene,_

_(too late, might I add) but you don't seem to be able to solve_

_the crime. Sad. Oh, well. I don't care about this family's _

_dirty laundry. Amazing, someone kills my brother, and_

_no one even cares, but I kill this faggot, and every agent in _

_the city is after me. Ironic, no? Still not waiting anymore."_

"That's sick," murmured Don as he got back to his feet.

"We've got another clue, though," said Terri, reading the note from over Don's shoulder. "Someone killed his brother. He's get more angry. Trying to justify his crimes more."

Greene tensed suddenly, but neither Don nor Terri noticed.

Kneeling back down, Don replaced the note back on the body and then grabbed the corner of the letter that was next to it.

"It's from his mother," said Greene simply. "She lives in Montana. At least, that's what Agent Lancaster told us."

"Can we talk to her now?" asked Terri as Don put the letter back on the body and stood back up.

"Yeah," said Greene. "Follow me." He stepped between the two agents and headed toward the door; Don and Terri followed his abrupt exit.

The neighboring apartment to the crime scene had its door open, and Don and Terri could hear a woman fussing in the apartment.

"Are you sure you don't want anything else to drink?" asked the woman; Don and Terri couldn't hear a response, but the woman apparently had gotten one. "Alright, sweetie."

They entered the apartment and saw a short hallway which led to a kitchen; it was the same layout as Brendan Lancaster's apartment. Don and Terri could see the slight form of a woman collapsed in a chair at the kitchen table.

"Agent Lancaster?" said Terri when they entered the kitchen.

The woman looked up at them, blonde hair falling into her tear-stained face, and a breath hitched in her throat. "You... you... you can call... call me Darci," she said as she brought a hand up to wipe her eyes.

"I'm very sorry about your brother," said Don as he took a seat at the table; Terri took the last chair available at the table.

"What's going on?" asked a demanding voice behind them.

Don turned his head and saw a chubby woman with graying, red hair standing at the kitchen counter staring at the three agents.

"I'm sorry ma'am," said Terri, "but this is a confidential case. If you could please step into the hallway for the time being." The woman glared at Terri. "Please."

The woman started down the hall muttering to herself. "It's my damn apartment," she said as she slammed the apartment door; Don, Terri, and Greene stared at the door a little shocked.

"Ms. Devlon means well," said Darci's quiet voice making the three turn back to the table. Darci was staring down at the mug in her hand. "What can I..." She paused when another breath caught in her throat. "I do for you agents." She looked at Greene. "And detective."

"Do you know if you brother was meeting anyone last night or this morning?" asked Don; Greene had never given them the estimated time of death.

"Last night, I don't know about," replied Darci. "He knew I was coming over this morning. We were planning our parents' 35th anniversary party. We... we were going... to fly our brother... brother Jack in from New York."

"You have another brother?" said Terri. "Jack and Brendan are both younger than me," said Darci; tears started to fall down her face. "Brendan... wa-was the youngest." Darci rested her head in her hand and tried to regain control over her emotions.

Terri set a comforting hand on Darci's shoulder, but the woman quickly shrugged it off.

"I'm okay," said Darci. "I just needed a second." She inhaled deeply and wiped her eyes. "How can I help you?" asked Darci after a moment.

"Is there anyone your brother might have considered an enemy that you know of?" asked Don.

"Brendan?" said Darci looking at Don in complete shock. "No. There might have been a few people who disliked him maybe even hated him for his life choice, but he didn't have any enemies. Brendan got along with everyone." She paused again. "I... I can't believe that note. That sick fucking Bastard!" She slammed her fist down on the table with that last word. Darci took several calming breaths, and Don and Terri were almost afraid to continue. "You saw it, didn't you?" demanded Darci when no one said anything.

"Yeah," replied Terri, nodding her head sadly.

"What type of person would write that!" demanded Darci; her anger beginning to flare again. "We have never been ashamed of Brendan or any of the choices he made!" The anger was gone a second later, and she leaned forward to rest her head on her folded arms.

"Is there anything else you want to tell us?" asked Don quietly, wanting to keep Darci calm. Darci raised her head a few inches and stared up at Don through her bangs.

"Yeah," she said in a low tone. "Find the bastard, and tell me when you do. I want to have a few words with them."

Silence filled the apartment's small kitchen, and Greene, Don, and Terri all stared at Darci Lancaster who had put her head back on her arms.

"Det. Greene?" said a voice from the hall. Everyone, excluding Darci, turned toward the newcomer.

"Yeah, Siverly?" said Greene staring at the middle-aged officer who had just entered.

"That Devlon woman had been rattling on about some guy who was pounding on Lancaster's door last night around eight," said the officer. "She won't shut up until she talks to someone who's in charge. We even threatened to arrest her, and she still won't stop."

"Alright," said Greene with a sigh. He followed the officer out the door.

"I'm gonna go with him," said Don as he stood from his chair.

"I'll stay with her," said Terri, setting a hand on Darci''s shoulder; Darci shifted uncomfortably, but didn't shrug it off this time.

Don nodded and walked out the door. He spotted Greene listening as Ms. Devlon enthusiastically told him something. Don made it over just in time to hear the tail end which also seemed to contain the point.

"So, I walk out into the Hall, I'm in my night-gown mind you, and I see this man pounding on Brendan's door," said Ms. Devlon. ""He's shoutin' too, and he's just so rude it's not even funny. So, I told him off, we exchange a few unpleasant words, he leaves, and I didn't think another thing of it till now."

"What did the man look like?" asked Don; Greene glared at him for stepping on his toes in the investigation.

"I didn't really get that great of a look at him," replied Ms. Devlon. "I didn't have my glasses on, so all I could really tell was that he had dark hair, and that he was tall." She adjusted the thick frames on her nose.

Greene sighed in frustration and ran a hand hard over his face. "Thank you, Ms. Devlon," Greene said through gritted teeth. "If you could please go give that statement to Officer Siverly, I would greatly appreciate it, and we will contact you if we need your help again." Ms. Devlon nodded, but Don could tell by the confused look on her face that she was still at a loss over something. "Officer Siverly was the officer you were talking to before."

"Oh," said Ms. Devlon before she turned and walked away.

"Well, Agent Eppes," said Greene as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stared at the retreating woman, "the ball's in your court now. You got any leads?" He gave Don a sardonic smirk.

Don only glared at the man in response and then returned to Ms. Devlon's apartment to Terri and Darci.

XVIIIIV

Don and Terri returned to the office with little more information than when they left. "So now we're looking for someone who is smart, has access to a strong computer, and someone killed their brother seven years ago?" said David after Don and Terri had relayed the new information to him.

"There has to be more to it than that," said Don. ""f it was just his brother who was killed, why kill all those other people? Why not just kill someone's brother and be done with it?" His own words made him shudder; Darci Lancaster had lost her brother, he could have lost his.

"But his brother was still killed seven years ago," said Terri, "which is more than we knew before."

"Agent Eppes!" shouted a voice across the office. All three agents turned to see who had called; Agent Brock was making her way toward them.

"Your search didn't turn up much," said Agent Brock, shoving a stack of paper into his hands. "There are sixty-two agents mentioned in the media in one way or another in the past year and that includes Agents Bolin, Boyd, and Grey."

Don looked down at the papers and saw that they contained lists of agents names; he spotted Darci Lancaster's name on the top page.

"We can't put protection on the family members of all these agents," said Agent Brock. "We don''t have enough man power to do that."

"I know that," said Don; he hated that Agent Brock was constantly pointing out obvious problems. He looked down at the list again. "We can narrow it down more than this. We've got to."

"So far, all the victims have been residents of the L.A. area," said Terri, "which means our killer is probably local. Maybe we should narrow it down to only agents with immediate family in the area."

Don nodded and handed the papers back to Agent Brock. "That oughtta cut the list down some."

Agent Brock glared at Don and clenched and unclenched the papers tightly. "I'll get right on that," she said through gritted teeth as she walked away.

"I don't think she likes us very much," said David as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I don't think she likes not being in charge," retorted Terri. "From what I've heard, she normally gives the orders in investigations, not receive them."

David scoffed and then walked off in the direction Agent Brock had gone.

Don sighed and turned back toward Terri. "Is Charlie here?"

"Yeah," replied Terri. "He's got a bunch of work spread out on the table of the conference room. I think some of it might be work for his classes."

"Maybe," said Don with a shrug. "He has to grade finals."

"Don," said Terri quietly, sounding a little unsure of her words. "Are you okay?"

Don looked at her surprised. "Yeah," he replied. "Got over my hangover yesterday."

"You know that's not what I mean," said Terri crossing her arms. "Don, I don't have any family in this area, but you do. I wanna know how you're dealing with this."

Don shrugged. "Thankfully, no one has set their sights on my family."

"Don----"

"I gotta go talk to Charlie," said Don cutting her off, he quickly walked away before Terri could respond.

XVIIIIV

Green was staring at the phone on his desk contemplating his next move carefully. "Do I really believe the Hackett kid did this?" he asked himself, rocking back and forth in his desk chair. Greene knew he should have told the agents his suspicions, but he just wasn't that willing to hand the kid over until he was sure.

With a sigh, Greene grabbed the receiver of the phone and quickly punched in the numbers before he would change his mind. Greene waited anxiously as the phone rang. Someone picked it up on the forth ring and answered. "Hello?" said a man's voice drowsily.

"Yes," said Greene. "My name is Det. Paul Greene. I was wondering if I could talk to Kade Hackett."

"Uh...," said the man's voice. "Ya can't."

"Why not?" asked Greene. "This is his dorm, ain't it?"

"Yeah," said the man; there was a break and Greene could hear him yawn, "but he ain't here right now."

"When is he gonna be back?" asked Greene agitated.

"I dunno," answered the man. "He comes and goes. Are you a cop?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

There was another long pause. "What is your name?" Greene asked finally.

"Daniel Westman."

"Well, Daniel. Give Kade this message. I want him to call Det. Paul Greene as soon as he gets back. The number is 555-1815."

"I can do that."

"Thank you."

"No problem. Adios."

"Good-bye," said Green. He hung up the phone and sighed loudly venting as much frustration as he could. "What a moron!"

"Who's a moron?" asked Tina walking into his office; Green had a habit of never closing his door.

"No one," replied Greene. He shoved some of his papers out of his way on the desk and then set his elbow down so he could support his head with one hand.

Tina looked around the office staring at all the boxes and papers that cluttered his office. "You ever think of cleaning up this mess? You might be able to work better."

"Mess? This isn't a mess. It's my way of looking at organization."

"Right." She moved a stack of papers out of one of the chairs and sat down. "Everything seems to have multiplied since the last time I was in here." She spotted the Hackett file still on the desk. "You know why you picked that out yet?"

"Maybe," replied Green. "I'm not sure."

"You should figure it out," said Tina. "You can't sit there and stare at that file while you've got cases piling up on your desk and a serial killer on the loose in L.A." She paused and saw that Greene's shoulders had tensed. "This has something to do with those FBI killings, doesn't it?"

Greene didn't respond. "Well, there's my answer," said Tina. "You think the same guy who killed that family is this new killer?"

"No."

"Then why are you looking up the Hackett case?"

"I told you, Tina!" shouted Greene as he quickly jumped to his feet. "I don't know!" He slammed his palm on his desk to drive his point home.

His partner stared at him for several seconds blinking her eyes, but remained silent. "Alright," she said quietly after a few moments had passed. "I'll see you later, Paul." She got up from her seat and walked toward the door. She paused in the doorway. "Get some rest, Paul. You need it," said Tina before she exited the office completely.

Greene slowly sat back down and rested his head in his hands. Tina was right; he needed to rest, but first, Kade Hackett had to call him back. Greene stared at the phone ready to answer if it rang.

XVIIIIV

Don watched silently as his brother scrawled numbers onto the sheet of paper in front of him; a stack of untouched finals lay off to the side, forgotten by the young mathematician. With a sigh, the elder Eppes walked over to his brother and set a hand on his shoulder; the younger man jumped, clearly startled.

"Sorry," said Don as he sat down at the table with his brother.

"It's okay," said Charlie. "I was just trying to find any other connections between the agents." He turned back to his work cutting the conversation with Don short.

"Unfortunately," said Don. "I've got another name for you to add to that list."

"Great," muttered Charlie sarcastically as he shifted the papers in front of him. Don looked over his brother's shoulder and saw tons of equations and numbers scribbled out on a sheet of paper; it was obvious Charlie was getting frustrated.

"You making any headway?" asked Don.

Charlie scoffed and pushed the papers away. "No, I'm not."

"We're narrowing down the list of agents," said Don. "We're only going to be looking at agents with family members in the area."

"Good," muttered Charlie; he was still staring at the equations on the page. "More people I won't be able to connect."

"What?" said Don.

"Nothin'," said Charlie. "It's just..."

"What?" said Don again; Charlie was starting to worry him.

"Maybe you were right," said Charlie quietly. He shifted the papers again. "I--maybe you were right. Maybe I can't help on this. I can't find any connection between these agents. Maybe they are random."

"Charlie," said Don, feeling guilty, "you've never thought that anything was random." Charlie didn't respond, and Don took it as a sign to continue. "Maybe you just don't have all of the equation yet."

Charlie shook his head and picked up the papers again. "I don't know," he said quietly as he scribbled over another equation.

"Charlie," said Don; his brother didn't respond. "Charlie?" Still no answer. "Charlie!" "What?" said Charlie looking up at him; he continued scribbling over the numbers.

"Maybe you should take a break," said Don reaching over and taking the pen from Charlie's hand.

"I'm fine," muttered Charlie taking the pen back.

"Charlie," said Don. "You need a break, leave it alone for the night." He was frustrated to see Charlie continuing to scribble. Don grabbed Charlie's shoulders and looked his brother in the eye. "You need to take a break," he said forcefully. "You can't force the answers to come, and you're just going to exhaust yourself if you try. Let me take you home."

Charlie looked away. "Fine," he said quietly.

"Come on," said Don, standing up, but leaving his hand on Charlie's shoulder. "I'll drive you home." He helped Charlie pick up his papers and then led his brother out of the conference room.

XVIIIIV

The man walked into his dorm room and dropped his bag by the door. That day's newspaper with the photo of Allison Lanskey was inside.

"Hey, Kade," said his roommate who was lying on the futon in the room reading an abnormally long book. "Some cop called for you today."

"What?" said Kade, staring at his roommate.

"Some cop called for you," repeated his roommate. "Det. Paul Greene. He said he wanted you to call him." His roommate laughed. "What'd you do? Rob a bank?" He laughed again.

Kade didn't find the humor his roommate had and began to pace. "What's with you, man?" said his roommate as he sat up.

"Nothing, Daniel," snapped Kade. He ran a hand through his hair. "Did he leave a number?"

"Yeah," said Daniel. "555-1815. You okay, man?"

"I'm fine," replied Kade through gritted teeth as he grabbed his bag and pulled open the door.

"Where are you goin'?" asked Daniel as the door was slammed shut.

XVIIIIV

I would like to apologize to anyone who might have been offended by the FBI note. Those are not my thoughts at all, I am using the only for the purpose of writing. I am truly sorry to anyone who found offense at them. Thank you. I hope you enjoyed. BYES!


	10. Chapter X

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: I hope you enjoy this chapter, but please. Don't bombard me with reviews telling me not to apologize so much. You don't know the story behind them, and it just makes me mad, but thank you for the good reviews. I would like to thank my beta reader Willy, and my friend, because it was a past story she helped me on that helped me write this.

**Blood Relatives **

Chapter Ten

_"Delay always heeds danger." Cervantes_

The longer Paul Greene sat at his desk staring at the phone thinking , the more the Hackett case seemed to fit. "Seven years," murmured Greene. He opened the folder and stared at the top page of the report; Greene had almost memorized the information in the file, but he was still trying to convince himself that the conclusion he had come to was wrong.

"He couldn't have done this," murmured Greene. "He's good a kid." His grandmother had insisted that on the phone.

The more time Greene spent brooding in his thoughts, the more keeping his suspicions of the Hackett kid a secret seemed like a bad idea.

Leaning foreword, Greene searched through a pile of papers that cluttered one corner of his desk. Somewhere, in the dump he called an office, he had the number of the FBI agent he didn't get along. Having someone know he was meeting with a possible killer might not be such a bad idea.

He couldn't find the number in that pile and moved to the opposite corner of the desk. Every once in awhile, as he searched, he glanced out the corner of his eye at his phone, almost praying that it wouldn't ring quite yet. It's shrill call though broke up the search, and Greene reached out to answer it.

"Det. Paul Greene?"

"You're still there?" said the person on the other end.

"No, Tina," said Greene sarcastically. "I'm answering my office phone from my car. You knew I would still be here, so what's up?"

"Well," said Tina. "I was hoping to find that you had gone home. Figures I wouldn't be so lucky."

"Is there a point to this, Tina?" Greene sighed loudly and leaned back in his chair.

"Yes. I wanted to apologized for earlier. It's just...What's with you lately, Paul?"

"Stress." Greene shrugged even though Tina couldn't see.

"You've been under this kind of stress before, so don't give me that crap."

"I've never been under this stress before," muttered Greene as he leaned forward and began searching for the number again.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," retorted Greene angrily, but he quickly calmed himself back down. "Look, Tina. I'm sorry for screaming earlier, but it really is just stress. I'm kind of in the middle of something. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Bye." Greene heard a click and then nothing, but dead air on the other end. With a sigh, Greene put the phone on the cradle and continued searching for the number.

XVIIIIV

Don pulled his SUV in the driveway of Charlie's house and turned off the engine. He looked over at Charlie and saw him slumped down in the passenger's seat; his bag was sitting on his lap, and he was absently fiddling with one of the zippers on it.

"You okay, Charlie?" asked Don.

"Fine," replied Charlie quickly as he threw open the car door. He walked across the lawn to the house and walked into the house; Don wasn't far behind.

"Is that you, Charlie!" Don heard his father shout from the kitchen.

Charlie didn't answer; he was busy dropping his bag on the couch.

"And Don!" Don shouted back answering for both him and his brother.

Alan walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, and looked at his two sons. "Donnie, what are you doing here? Not that I'm not glad to see ya."

"I gave Charlie a ride home," explained Don. "Thought we could both use a break."

"New case?" asked Alan.

"Kinda," replied Don quickly; Alan took the hint not to ask any more questions about it.

Alan nodded at Don and looked over at Charlie who was digging through his bag. "Um...," said Alan still watching his youngest, "you staying for dinner, Donnie?"

"Uh...," said Don, "sure. I guess." He shrugged with his reply.

"Good," said Alan eyes still focused on Charlie. He grabbed hold of Don's arm and motioned for Don to follow him. "Do you know what's bothering Charlie?" Alan asked his son quietly. He knew that if Charlie heard what they were talking about, he would immediately deny anything was wrong at all.

"Um...," said Don prolonging the answer. "It's kind of complicated, Dad."

"Oh," said Alan. "This got something to do with that case you two are working on?"

Don paused before answering. "Kinda."

Alan nodded, thinking that he wasn't going to get any more information out of his eldest.

"Dad?" said Don watching as his father turned back around to go back to the living room. He had to tell his father the truth.

"Yeah, Donnie?" Alan turned back around to face his son.

"Can we go into the kitchen. I gotta talk to you?"

"Sure," said Alan, following his son into the kitchen. "What's up, Donnie?"

"Take a seat," said Don pulling out chairs for both his father and himself. Alan sat and looked up at his son.

"What's going on, Don?" asked Alan as Don took a seat too.

"It's about the case, Dad," Don started slowly. He was choosing his words carefully. He didn't want to freak out his father out with his news of the FBI killer, but he couldn't keep it a secret anymore. If something were to happen to his father or his brother, he couldn't live with himself.

"What?" asked Alan. Both of his children's recent behavior had been confusing and worrying him.

"Like I said," started Don not entirely sure how to explain the situation to his father, "it's about the case." The entire time he spoke, Don wrung his hands together.

"You're repeating yourself, Donnie," said Alan; he was responded to by a glare from his son. "Sorry," said Alan putting his hands up in defeat.

"Dad," said Don slowly before taking a deep breath, "there is a serial killer out there who is targeting the family members of FBI agents." He paused to let his father absorb the information.

Alan blinked a few times and then turned to stare at his son. He opened and close his mouth a few times before a word finally came out. "Why?"

Don shrugged. "If we knew that, we could probably catch the guy."

Alan paused again trying to take it all in. "Is that why Charlie has been acting so weird? Is he helping you on the case?"

"Yeah," replied Don quickly; it wasn't a complete lie, but Don did not think it wise to mention that he had yelled at Charlie only three days before.

Father and son sat there for several minutes in silence letting it all sink in.

"Dad," Don said when he thought the silence was going to drive him crazy, "promise me something."

Alan looked up at his eldest almost startled by the amount of solemnity in his voice. "Wha-what, Donnie?"

"Until we catch this guy, don't take any unnecessary chances. Don't go out at night by yourself, stuff like that."

"Don?" said Alan putting a hand on his son's arm.

"Just promise me, Dad." Don took a breath. "All of the murders have happened at night in the LA area." he looked at Alan; his eyes bearing into his father's. "Just promise me."

"Yeah, Donnie," said Alan nodding. "I promise." Never before had he seen Don this disturbed by a case. Don had been frustrated, maybe even obsessed, but never had it been like this.

"Thanks," said Don letting a sigh out and leaning back in the chair.

"Can you tell me anymore about the case?"

Don shook his head. "You don't even want to know," muttered Don quietly as he rose from his chair shaking his head. He began to pace slightly across the kitchen.

After watching his son for several minutes, Alan said the only thing he could think of to get him to stop. "Dinner's gonna be ready pretty soon."

Don turned toward his father and smirked. "Okay," he said running a hand over his face.

"You're still staying, aren't you?"

"Yeah, Dad." Don turned and headed back to the living room ready to give the same speech to Charlie.

XVIIIIV

Charlie was staring at the papers he had dug out; they were a mixture of finals and the pointless equations from before.

"Great," he thought to himself sarcastically, "two things I just can't get a handle on." He tossed the papers on the couch and ran his hands through his hair. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself back down, Charlie paced across the living room a few times.

"Why am I stressing myself out over this?" Charlie asked himself quietly. "Don seems to be finding out more without my help than with." He tried to convince himself that he didn't know why he was so bound determined to find something, but deep down, he knew. Charlie was still trying to prove to both himself and Don that he wasn't useless.

Charlie walked toward the kitchen, but paused when he heard his brother's voice. "There is a serial killer out there who is targeting the family members of FBI agents."

Charlie waited, hidden just beyond the doorframe, listening for his father's response.

"Why?"

"If we knew that we could probably catch the guy." He could hear the frustration in his brother's voice.

Charlie listen to another long pause before his father spoke again. "Is that why Charlie has been acting so weird? Is he helping you on the case?"

Charlie held his breath almost dreading his brother's response. "Yeah," he heard Don say; Charlie almost let out a snort of laughter, but managed to hold it back. Don had just flat lied to their father. Well, maybe not a complete lie, but the half-truth seemed a little odd considering the situation.

With a sigh, Charlie turned back around and returned to the living room. He picked up the final that he had thrown on the couch and dug a pen out of his bag. He might as well do something productive.

Several minutes went by before Charlie became aware of a presence in the room. He looked up from the note he was writing and saw his brother standing in the doorway staring at him.

"You're not working on that equation again, are you, Charlie?" asked Don, crossing his arms. "I took you home so you would take a break."

Charlie shifted the papers in his lap and went back to writing. "It's a final," he muttered not looking up at his brother.

"Good," said Don. Leaving the doorway, he took a seat in his father's recliner.

"Can I help you?" Charlie asked irritated perfectly aware of his brother's gaze on him.

"Charlie, I need to talk to you about the case." Charlie's pen paused, and he sat completely still on the couch. "Would ya look at me?"

Charlie slowly raised his gaze feeling a repeat of his brother's apology three days before. "Yeah?"

"You know what is at stake on this case, Charlie?"

"I'm trying to find a way to connect them, Don, but I just--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Charlie," said Don cutting his brother off with a wave of his hand. "I'm not talking about that."

"What are you talking about then?" Charlie was a little confused.

"Charlie, think about the type of people we've narrowed it down to." Charlie just stared at his brother as realization sank in. "The only agents who had been targeted are agents with immediate family in the LA area. We can't put protection on all those people; we don't have the manpower for that. What I'm trying to say, Charlie, is that I want you to be careful. Do not take _any_ unnecessary chances. No staying late at the school by yourself or anything like that. I know with you consulting on this case, you should be pretty safe, but Dad is another story. I just want you two to be careful."

There was a long silence as Charlie took in the information.

"Charlie?" said Don after a few minutes had gone by.

"I understand," said Charlie quietly. "I'll be careful; I'll make sure Dad is too."

Don let a tired smile creep onto his face, and he leaned back to relax in the chair. He was perfectly content in letting his mind drift until dinner was ready when the shrill ring of his cellphone brought him out of his reverie, and he answered it quickly.

"Agent Eppes."

Charlie watched as Don's demeanor changed with the phone call; his shoulders tensed, and his face adapted a serious look. His tone was no nonsense as he spoke. "Why didn't you inform me of this sooner?"

Charlie couldn't hear the response, but he could tell it was not to his brother's liking. "Alright," muttered Don, leaning forward and running a hand over his face. "I'll be there as soon as I can." Don let out a sigh and hung up the phone; he looked up at Charlie who was staring at him.

"That was Det. Greene," explained Don quickly. "He's the detective who's helping on the case. He says that he's got a lead on the case and wants me to come to his office."

"When?"

"Now," replied Don as he stood. "I'm sorry, but I gotta go." He ducked into the kitchen and saw his father sitting at the table reading the paper while something bubbled on the stove. "I'm sorry, Dad, but I gotta go."

"Okay, Donnie," said Alan a little surprised. "The case?"

Don nodded and then headed to the front door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Charlie," said Don as he headed out the door. "Remember what I said."

Charlie nodded in response , even though his brother couldn't see it, and then leaned back on the couch.

"What did he say?" asked Alan; Charlie looked up at his father standing in the doorway watching him.

"Nothin'," murmured Charlie with a shrug of his shoulders.

XVIIIIV

Greene sat at his desk still watching the phone on his desk. He knew it was illogical, but the thought that if he stared at the phone long enough, it would ring had somehow planted itself in his mind, and he was not leaving until it rang.

"Ring," Greene had began to mutter to himself. "Ring! Ring, damn you!" He slammed his palm in his desk with the last words, but the echo of flesh hitting wood was the only sound in the office.

Taking a few deep, calming breaths, Greene leaned back in his desk chair and began to chew on his thumbnail thoughtfully. He heard the door to his office open, but did not look up from the staring contest he was having with the phone.

"I thought you had gone, Tina," said Greene assuming she was the one who had entered his office; she was the only one who never knocked in he station.

"It's not Tina," said a voice angrily from the doorway; Greene didn't recognize it as the voice of the FBI agent and looked up quickly. He didn't need any help figuring out that the late visitor was Kade Hackett. Kade didn't look too different from the fifteen-year-old he had met seven years before, maybe just a little taller and few more muscles.

"Hello, Mr. Hackett," said Greene, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the desk. A thought hit him, and he quickly scrawled a note on one of the folders before showing it off to the side.

"Call me Kade," said the man as he walked up to the desk. "There's not a whole lot of people out there."

Greene nodded suddenly feeling very nervous; it was the same feeling he had gotten before every bust that had gone wrong. "Umm...take a seat, please," said Greene gesturing to the only empty chair in front of his desk.

"I think I'll stand," replied Kade stiffly.

"Alright," said Greene. "I wanted to talk to you about--"

"I know what you want to talk about," said Kade, cutting the detective off.

"That's convenient," said Greene with a nervous laugh, but stopped when he saw the cold look in Kade's dark green eyes. "I'll cut to the chase," said Greene as he cleared his throat. "Why are you doing it?"

Kade glared, but did let his gaze drift from Greene. "You were there," he said quietly, and for a moment, his eyes glazed over as a flood of memories hit him. "You saw what they did to my family."

"An eye for eye," said Greene thinking that maybe he was getting through to Kade.

A sadistic smile crept onto Kade's face. "A father for a father, a sister for a sister, a mother for a mother, a brother for a brother, and so on. If I can't have my family, why should they have theirs'?"

As Kade was speaking, Greene reached down and opened the drawer where he kept a spare gun. "You have a lot of potential, Kade. You're smart, brilliant even, hardworking. Why are you doing this?"

"They promised," said Kade quietly; Greene could see his eyes watering. "They promised they would find that bastard! I've been waiting seven years for some sort of closure, and it was never given to me." He laughed lowly. "I'm not waiting."

The second Kade pulled out the gun, Greene knew he had seen him reaching down to the drawer. Greene slowly brought his hand back to the desk. No one would hear; Greene could tell. There was a silencer attached to the end.

"I'm sorry," said Kade with a shrug of his shoulders; Greene doubted he meant it. "But I can't have you ruining this."

Greene always knew that when death came, he would look it in the face; he never knew it would be quite so literal. The last thing Greene ever heard was the sound of the gun's hammer clicking; the last thing he ever saw was the twisted smile on Kade's face. Greene felt a burst of white-hot pain in his chest and then, nothing but darkness.

XVIIIIV

Don walked into the police station surprised by how few people were there. He saw a desk sergeant sitting near the entrance looking half asleep. "Excuse me," said Don walking up and tapping the woman on the shoulder.

She snapped awake and looked up at Don through sleep-gazed eyes. "I'm sorry," said the woman her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "Can I help you?"

"I need to speak with Det. Paul Greene," said Don.

"Two visitors in one night," muttered the woman. "He's popular."

Don felt an urge to ask about the first visitor, but held his tongue.

"Just go straight down the hall," said the woman, "and it's the first door on the left."

"Thanks," said Don, turning and heading to the hall. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, but chocking it up to paranoia and stress, Don was able to push it off to the side.

He saw that Greene's door was slightly ajar, but Don knocked anyway. No one replied, and Don pushed the door open all the way.

At first, Don thought his eyes were playing tricks on him; all those years of FBI work had caused him to see crime scenes wherever he went, but when he blinked a few times and the scene didn't go away, Don knew it was real.

Det. Paul Greene was lying back in his chair; eyes staring lifelessly at the far wall and blood was staining the front of his chest; a small trickle came down from the corner of his mouth. Don walked around the desk trying to get a better look at the scene. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the detective was dead; the glazed eyes and lack of breathing gave it away.

Don was about to walk back to get the desk sergeant when something on Greene's desk caught his eye. Moving a stack of papers over, Don picked up a folder with a note hurriedly scrawled in the corner. His name was written in bold letters just beneath the word "important." Don picked up the file and set it off in a chair before exciting the office to get the sergeant.

XVIIIIV

Well, I hope you enjoyed chapter ten, but I will be taking another hiatus from this story, so I can finish my Christmas story in time. I hope you will be patient, and I plan on having chapter eleven done after Christmas at the latest. Thank you in advance for your patience. Roth


	11. Chapter XI

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: Sorry it took so long, but I hope you enjoy.

**Blood Relatives **

Chapter Eleven

_"A rule of thumb for a warrior is that he makes his decisions so carefully that nothing may happen as a result of them can surprise him, much less drain his power." Carlos Castaneda_

It had been five days since this serial killer had started their "revenge", and all Don had to show for his investigation was four dead family members and a murdered police detective. He also had to show dark circles under his eyes and constant yawning.

"We put a rush on the lab results from that bullet," said Terri as he walked up to Don's desk. "It came from the same gun as the one that killed Brendan Lancaster." Don looked up and took the folder Terri was handing him.

Don read it quickly and then set it down on the desk. "Why does last night seem so long ago?" he asked with a tired sigh.

"Probably 'cause you were up all night," replied Terri. "Do you have any idea what he wanted to talk to you about?"

Don was about to say no when he remembered the file he had picked up off Greene's desk. With all of commotion from the night before, all thoughts of the folder had been lost in the shuffle. "Maybe," answered Don as shuffled though some of the papers on his desk. He found the buried beneath Brendan Lancaster's coroner's report; another item they had put a rush on. Greene's hurried scrawl still stuck out in the corner.

"What's that?" asked Terri looking at the folder in Don's hands.

"I think this is what Greene wanted to show me and maybe why he was killed." Don flipped open the folder and saw that the content was a police report.

"May 27, 1998," Don read off the top of the police report. He skimmed the file hurriedly trying to get the gist of it. His jaw dropped the moment it mentioned the first three of the murders. A mother, a father, and a daughter had all been killed.

"This is like a frickin' map," muttered Terri who was reading over his shoulder. The police report also mentioned another four deaths including another two brothers, a grandmother, and another sister.

"Kade Hackett," murmured Don looking down at the only survivor. "He was the oldest son."

"How old is this case?" asked Terri.

"Seven years as of last week. This killing spree started the same day this murder happened."

"I highly doubt that is a coincidence," said Terri as she sat down in an empty chair.

Don flipped through the file of the police report until a post-it on the third page caught his eye.

_"Laura and James Paige,"_ read Don as he pulled the note off the paper. _"Kade's grandparents (guardians) 555-7273."_

"Should we call them?" asked Terri leaning forward and setting her elbows on her knees.

"Yeah," replied Don pulling the post-it off the paper. "I'll have David do it. I've got to meet Tina Kraus; she was Greene's partner."

"When she getting here?"

"Can't say. She was pretty shaken up on the phone last night, and I couldn't really get a straight answer out of her. She kept saying something about knowing something was wrong."

"What was wrong?" asked Terri.

"I couldn't get an answer that made sense out of her," replied Don. With a sigh, he leaned back in the chair and ran a hand over his face stifling a yawn.

"No sleep at all?" said Terri watching as Don leaned forward again.

"About an hour long nap," replied Don running a hand through his hair.

Terri stifled a laugh turning it into more of a snort. "You might want to take a vacation or something when this is all over."

"Yeah," said Don as Terri walked away, "when this is all over."

Don went back to the police report studying it carefully. A few minutes went by before Don noticed two people standing in front of his desk. Looking up, Don saw Terri standing there along with a woman in her late thirties. The woman's long red hair was messed up and her eyes were puffy. Tell-tale tear streaks ran down her pale freckled face.

"Miss Kraus?" said Don standing up from the chair.

The woman nodded shrugging off Terri's hand that had been resting on her shoulder. "You can call me, Tina," she said quietly as she wiped her eyes. "Miss Kraus makes me feel like my mother." She let out a small laugh, which was one of the most depressing sounds Don thought he had ever heard, and massaged her forehead with her fingers. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Your partner," replied Don.

"And you would be?" said Tine quietly giving Don a sardonic smile; Don couldn't help but think she acted a lot like Det. Greene.

"I'm Special Agent Don Eppes," he extended his hand to her, and she shook it politely but empathetically.

"Nice to meet you." said Tina letting her hand drop back to her side. "I only wish it was under better circumstances."

"Please, have a seat," said Don pulling a chair out for the distraught cop.

"Thank you," said Tina sitting down heavily in the chair. Terri sat down on the edge of Don's desk while Don took his seat again.

"I don't really know what I can tell you," said Tina inhaling deeply as she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees creating a structure to support her head. "He hasn't exactly been open with me lately."

"Anything you can tell us will be helpful," said Terri; Tina laughed, another depressing, hallow sound. "What's so funny?"

"I've been a cop for nine years," said Tina shaking her head. "I never thought I would end up on this side of a police interview. It's weird."

Terri nodded in understanding, and Don scooted the chair forward.

"When was the last time you spoke with him?" asked Don

"Last night," replied Tina. "I called him last night around nine hoping he had left. I wasn't so lucky."

"Do you know what he was working on?" asked Don.

"He wasn't really working on anything," replied Tina. "He'd been real out of it lately, just kinda snapping at everything and everyone. The case that the FBI is working on, it was bothering him a lot. Then he did something weird."

"What?" asked Terri, leaning forward.

"He got out this old unsolved case," replied Tina. "Some mass murder that went unsolved."

"What was the case about?" asked Don casting a quick glance to the police report on his desk.

"A family of seven was killed," replied Tina. "There was only one survivor; the oldest son, Kade Hackett."

Don's eyes drifted to the police report on his desk again. "Any idea why he would be looking at it?"

"No," replied Tina with a shake of her head. "Whenever I asked him about it, he would fly off the handle screaming that he didn't know why he had gotten it out." She paused for a minute to gather her thoughts. "It's almost as if he's obsessed with that case. He was the first respondent on it six or seven years ago. He told me he had been keepin' track of Kade Hackett all these years."

"What did Greene know about him?" asked Don now confused.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure," answered Tina. "He said something about him graduating at the top of his class in high school, and then something about him going to a math or science school. He didn't really go into detail."

"Why was he keeping track of him?" asked Don.

Tina shrugged. "Paul was always a hard nut to crack. He would be happy go lucky friendly one day and distant and moody the next. I think Paul was keeping track of him because he felt guilty; he wanted to make sure that kid was making the most of his life."

"Why would he feel guilty?" asked Terri. "He was only a first respondent on the scene."

Tina's eyes seemed to glass over, and she adapted a far away look to her face. "Paul told me about finding the kid bawling on the floor of the nursery. I think that image has haunted him for a long time." She took a deep breath. "He said that the FBI took over the case when it seemed that the killer had the same MO as someone they were after, but when they finally caught the guy; he confessed to every crime but that one. The case was given back to the police, but the trail was cold by then."

"It was never reopened?" said Don.

Tina shrugged. "No new evidence." She stared at Don for a moment before opening her mouth to ask another question. "Were you the agent to talk to him on the phone." He nodded. "What did he say?"

Don sighed. "Only that he had an old case with a connection to this one, and that I needed to come down and see it."

"Nothin' else?" Don shook his head. "Alright," Tina hung her head stared down at her hands, hair falling into her pale face.

"Thank you for your time, Tina," said Terri solemnly.

XVIIIIV

David dialed the number on the post it Terri had given him and waited while the phone connected. "Hello?" said a woman's voice when the phone was picked up on the other end.

"Hello, may I speak with Mrs. Laura Paige?"

"Speaking."

"Mrs. Paige, my name is Agent David Sinclair."

"Oh." David could tell the woman was now confused.

"I wanted to talk to you about your grandson, Kade Hackett."

"Huh. That's funny."

"What?"

"Well, you're the second person to ask about him this week."

"Really." David leaned forward intrigued. "Who was the other?"

"A police detective; Paul Greene. I think he called yesterday. Is Kade in some sort of trouble?"

David ignored her question. "What did he want?"

"Kade's number. Is that what you're after; I've got it right here by the phone."

"I was actually hoping to speak with you and your husband."

"Well, I suppose so, but if you don't mind, could we talk in person. I do really hate doing business over the phone."

"We can do that," said David, nodding even though the woman could not see him.

"Thank you." She gave him the address and then bid him a cheery good-bye.

Hanging up the phone, David grabbed a pen off the desk and scrawled the address onto a sheet of paper happy to have made at least a small break. Walking back to the desk, David saw Terri and Don sitting at his desk talking.

"I've got something," said David handing the post-it back to Don. "Kind of. The woman, Laura Paige, will be happy to talk about her grandson, only, she doesn't want to do it over the phone." He showed them the scrap of paper. "But I've got an address and an invite."

"Great," said Don taking the address and studying it. "When?"

"Anytime. One more thing though."

"What?" asked Terri, standing up.

"Greene called her too," replied David. "Only, all he wanted was Kade Hackett's number."

"You think Greene got a hold of Kade before he was killed?" asked Terri.

"Maybe," said Don. "Maybe not. Hell, we don't know anything for sure right now."

"Well, it's still the best lead we've got," said Don, standing up. "I say we go visit the Paige's." He picked up the police report. "On the way back, we can drop this off at CalSci for Charlie to take a look at."

"How about you two go to the Paige's, and I take the report to CalSci?" suggested David.

Don nodded and handed the folder to David.

"Agent Eppes!" shouted a loud demanding voice across the office.

"Agent Brock," Don replied turning to face the woman; he hadn't spoken with the woman for several days and had grown used to the quiet.

"I've got your narrowed down list," she said handing a single sheet of computer paper to Don. "We're now down to thirty agents. All of whom have immediate family living in or around the L.A. area."

Don took the paper and started reading down the list. "Is this all of them?" he asked.

"That not enough for you?" demanded Brock, crossing her arms and staring at him angrily.

"No," replied Don, liking this agent less and less each time he had to deal with her. "It's plenty. I just wanted to double check. Is this all the information you have for me?"

"At the moment," said Brock uncrossing her arms and standing up straighter, "yes."

"Alright," said Don reading down the list quickly. He felt terribly uncomfortable when he recognized several of the names including his own. He turned toward David handing the paper to him. "Pull these agents files and take them to Charlie as well. If you need help getting them there, take that one agent um...Agent Deck."

"Natalie Deck?" asked David reading down the list.

"Yeah," said Don with a nod. "Her." He looked past David to Terri. "Let's go."

Terri nodded and stood up.

XVIIIIV

Charlie was well aware of Larry who was standing in the doorway watching him, but he ignored him. Larry had been standing there for five minutes it was hard not to notice him.

The profiles of the four agents covered his desk. "Why them?" Charlie asked himself as he lifted his hand and rested his chin on his palm.

"Why who?" asked Larry walking all the way into the classroom.

Charlie looked up startled following Larry as he sat down in a chair. "It's a case," replied Charlie pulling the papers back not sure he wanted Larry to see them.

"Ah," said Larry. "Something for the FBI. Well, that would explain the rather tall stack of ungraded finals you've been carrying around."

Charlie looked at the stack he had set on the corner of the desk. "I'm about halfway through them," said Charlie with a shrug, "but this is really important." He picked up the papers and waved them a little to emphasize his point.

Larry waved off the dramatic display and leaned forward in his chair. "I understand," said Larry trying to get a peek at the papers as Charlie set them back on the desk. "Perhaps, I can be of assistance."

Charlie scoffed. "Yeah. All we gotta do is try and solve a problem with no data."

"What do you mean?"

Charlie shoved the papers toward Larry. "I've get to figure out why this killer picked those people." He pointed at the paper to get his point across.

"These are the murders that have been all over the news," muttered Larry as he shifted through the police reports and Charlie's notes.

"Yeah," replied Charlie, "and each one of the victims was related to an FBI agent who was somehow in the news one way or another in the past six months. I've got to figure out why they chose those agents."

Larry continued to flip through the papers. "So you've got to come up with a rational and reasonable answer for why a psychotic killer is murdering all these people." Larry set the papers down and leaned back clasping his hands together. "Sounds like you're trying to explain human behavior with math again."

"This guy is smart, Larry," said Charlie. "None of these killings are random. There has to be a reason for these agents. It's not like they're just throwing darts at a list or pulling names out of a hat. Not even that would produce a completely random result."

"How were these people related?" asked Larry.

"Um...," said Charlie picking up the paper. "Gary Bolin was Alec Bolin's father, Prue Boyd was the younger sister of Joe Boyd, Allison Lanskey was Alicia Grey's mother, and Brendan Lancaster was Darci Lancaster's brother."

Larry nodded, but didn't say anything.

"I just can't figure out why it's those people," muttered Charlie leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk.

There was a knock on the door, and both Larry and Charlie turned toward the door. "Am I interrupting anything?" asked David lugging a box under his arm and stepping into the office.

"No, David," said Charlie waving him into the office.

"I've got some information for you," said David walking over and taking a seat opposite Larry. He set the box on the desk and pulled the list of agents off the top. "These are all the agents with family in the L.A. area." David handed the paper to Charlie and then grabbed the handle of the box and pushed it toward them. "These are all their files."

David reached into the box again and pulled out the Hackett police file.

"What's that?" asked Larry looking at the file.

"This is who we believe might be committing these murders, or at least the reason why someone's committing them," explained David.

Charlie put the paper down and reached out for the file. "May I see it?" asked Charlie. David nodded and handed it to him.

Charlie sat back resting the file on his lap, the desk was basically covered and started to read. "These are the same family members that were killed," said Charlie as he flipped through the pages.

David nodded, and Larry leaned forward intrigued. "There have been four murders so far," said David. "If our killer is following that thing, then he only has three more. A grandmother, a sister, and a brother."

"How do you know these are the relations?" asked Charlie looking up from the file.

David sighed. "One kid in that family wasn't killed," he replied. "We think that kid may be the killer. His name is in there toward the back. God, I can't remember it. Cody, Kyle, Chris..."

"Kade," muttered Charlie with a sickening feeling in his stomach.

"Yeah," said David looking up and seeing how pale Charlie suddenly was.

"What's the matter, Charles?" asked Larry worried.

Charlie stood up suddenly, the police file falling to the floor. He massaged his forehead trying to think.

"Charlie, what is it?" asked David, hurrying over to see if Charlie was okay and to pick up the police report.

"I know him," said Charlie, collapsing back into the chair nearly hitting David who was stooped over picking up the file.

"How do you know him?" asked David.

"He's in one of my classes," explained Charlie resting his head on the palm of his hand.

David creased his brow. "What can you tell me about him."

Charlie lifted his head and shrugged his shoulders. "He's smart, but really quiet. I've never really talked to him much. He came in a few days ago, but I haven't seen him since."

"You know any of his friends or his roommate?" asked David.

Charlie shook his head. "The school administration would know his roommate," replied Charlie with a shrug.

David nodded. "I've got to make a phone call," he said pulling out his phone. "I'll be right back."

XVIIIIV

The Paige's home was a small one story house with a light blue siding. Don and Terri walked up a small brick path leading up a neatly mowed yard to a small porch. The porch was maple, or made to look like it was, and a welcome mat was placed in front of the door. Don found that ironic considering the nature of their visit.

Terri reached out, rang the doorbell, and waited.

"Coming!" shouted a muffled through the house. Don and Terri heard a chain slide on the other side of the door. The door swung open, and a woman in her late fifties stood in the doorway. Her grayish hair was pulled back into a way too neat bun. Her outfit, khaki slacks and a maroon blouse, was free of any wrinkles, and she stared at the agents with a questioning look. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Special Agent Don Eppes," said Don with a nod, "and this is my partner Agent Terri Lake. You spoke to Agent Sinclair earlier."

The woman nodded, but remained quiet for a few second looking deep in thought. "May I see your badges please."

Don sighed. It was obvious by the way the woman was standing the badges were their ticket into the house.

Don and Terri took out their badges, and once the woman seemed satisfied they were the real deal, she stepped off to the side and allowed them in. "I'm sorry," said the woman with a smile, "but after I got off the phone with Agent Sinclair earlier, I realized I didn't know if you were for real or not."

"It's okay ma'am," said Don as he looked around the entryway. The inside of the house was even neater than the outside. The carpets were bright white free of any stains which flowed into cream colored walls. Pictures of family member hung in neat straight rows and an end table sat in the corner with a phone on it.

"James!" Laura shouted through the house. An elderly man walked into the entryway wearing a golfing outfit.

"Hello," said the man smiling when he saw them. "Are you the agents Laura was talking about?"

Don and Terri nodded. "My name is James Paige." He extended his hand for both of them to shake. "I don't really know why you would want to talk to us about Kade. He hasn't done anything wrong, has he?"

"Not that we know for sure," replied Don. "Is there someplace we could discuss this?"

"Yes," replied Laura nodding her head quickly. "Follow me." She waved them into the living room which resembled the decorating taste of the rest of the house. The carpet was once again stark white with walls to match while the furniture consisted of a matching couch, loveseat, and chair. A large TV sat up against the wall, and a few decorations were placed around the room.

"Not exactly the ideal place to spend your teen years," Terri muttered as they walked into the living room.

Don understood exactly what Terri meant. Nothing in the Paige's house exactly screamed child-friendly, but more of don't touch.

Don and Terri sat down on the couch while Laura sat on the loveseat and James sat in the chair.

"I'm still confused as to what you want to talk about, agents?" said Laura.

"Well," said Don not sure how to bring up the topic of their family's massacre. "I know this must be a painful subject, but I must talk to you about your family's murder."

Laura paled visibly, and James shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "We can tell you as much as we know," said James taking over the conversation, "but we weren't there or anything."

"We know," said Terri, "but our questions pertain more toward Kade."

"Okay," said James. "What are your questions?"

"Can you tell us about the murder?" asked Don leaning forward.

James took a deep breath. "Lillian, Kade's mother, was our daughter. She was supposed to come over on the day of the murder. When she didn't show and no one called, we got worried. I drove over there and saw all the police."

"By that point," said Laura, jumping into the conversation, "Kade had already been taken down to the sation and was getting his statement taken. He was then sent with a social worker. It took us a week to get full custody of him."

"Why did it take so long?" asked Terri.

Laura turned toward Terri. "Tag-teaming," she muttered with a shake of her head. "Nathan and Lillian were young; thirties. They didn't have wills yet. We tried to get them to write them, but they didn't think anything could happen to them. Nathan had a brother, but Derek wasn't really wasn't cut out for raising children. It wasn't much of a custody battle for Kade, but he did spend a week in a foster home."

"What was he like after the murder?" asked Terri.

"Quiet," replied Laura; James was sitting silently. "We tired to get him to talk to us about it, but the only time he ever did talk about it, he ended up screaming and ranting." She took a deep breath. "We put him in therapy for two years, and that really seemed to help."

James started in. "We weren't cut out to help him through this. We were grieving too, but we just couldn't help."

"We tried," said Laura. "We really did, but every time we tried to talk to him after that one time, he would ignore us and go do his schoolwork. It was his escape."

_"Why does that sound familiar?" _Don thought to himself sarcastically, but then quickly pushed the thought away. He had just compared his brother to a possible serail killer.

"Did he ever act weird or show any signs of violence?" asked Terri.

"He was always quiet before," replied Laura, "but afterwards he was even quieter ad more reserved if you want to count that as weird. He stopped hanging out with his friends, and just did his schoolwork. He graduated top of his class."

"You guys must have been proud," said Terri.

Laura nodded. "As for violence," said Laura, "no. Except for the occasional scream about the whole incident, he never showed any aggression."

"He started going to college," replied James, "but hell if I know what he wants to do with what he's learning."

"Is he still in the area?" asked Don.

"Why yes," replied Laura. "He lives at his dorm most of the time, wanted a little bit of privacy, but he stops and visits quite a bit. He was here just last week."

"Where does he go to school?" questioned Don.

"CalSci," replied Laura; Don's eyes went wide, but he maintained a calm demeanor. "He gave us each a sweatshirt last year for Christmas."

"Has he been acting strange at all recently?" asked Terri acting as if the news hadn't surprised her at all.

"Well," said Laura, "last week when he was visiting--"

"Laura!" shouted James suddenly, cutting his wife off. "He was just a little depressed."

"What are you talking about?" asked Don.

Laura took a deep breath. "Last week, when he was over here, he started talking about it. He asked if we were ever angry at the police or FBI for not finding the murderer." She paused. "We thought that it was all because the anniversary was coming up."

"What did you say?" asked Terri.

"A little," replied Laura sheepishly.

The room was quiet for a moment before James started speaking again. "What is all this about, agents? Is Kade in trouble?"

"We can't really say anything about that now, Mr. Paige," replied Don, "but I can say that is it very important that we get a hold of Kade as soon as possible."

"I can give you his number at the dorm and his address," said James with a shrug.

"We would greatly appreciate that," replied Don.

James gave them the number off the top of his head and then struggled to come up with the address.

"It's written down in the kitchen," said Laura standing up from her seat. "I'll go get it." She hurried out of the room and seemed glad to do so.

Once his wife was gone, James turned back to them looking very nervous. "Are you sure there isn't any way you an tell me what's going on with Kade?" pleaded James. "He's all Laura and I have left."

Don shook his head not sure which would hurt more: being left in the dark on why the FBI was after your grandchild or being told that he was under suspicion of the murders of five people including a police officer.

Fortunately for Don, he didn't have long to dwell on the morals of the situation; Laura Paige hurried back into the room triumphantly carrying a small sheet of paper.

"You can keep it," said Laura handing the paper to Don. "I have another copy in the kitchen."

"Thank you," said Don as he and Terri rose from their seats. "And thank you for you help with our questions."

"Your welcome agents," said James, leading Don and Terri back to the door.

"If you can think of anything else," said Don, pulling a card from his pocket and handing it to James, "please call this number."

James nodded before tucking the card into his front pocket.

Laura walked up to her husband and slipped his hand in his as Don and Terri turned to leave.

"Agents?" she said quietly before they could make it out the door.

"Yeah?" said Don turning back toward the couple.

"Kade is a good kid," she said in a pleading tone. "He really is."

Don nodded in understanding and walked out the door.

"Their house was a little freaky," muttered Terri as they walked down the sidewalk to the SUV. "It looked as if you moved something out of its spot an alarm would go off."

"I know what our mean," muttered Don absently.

"CalSci," said Terri knowing exactly what was bothering her friend.

"Yep," muttered Don with a nod of his head.

"How do you think Charlie's gonna take it?"

"I'm not sure," replied Don, running a hand through his hair. "Kade Hackett might not even be one of his students." His phone rang just as he finished his statement. He quickly snatched the phone from the holder on his belt. "Eppes."

"Hey, Don," said David on the other end. "I've got some news for you."

"What? Did Charlie find something?"

"No," replied David, "but I did. Kade Hackett goes to CalSci."

"We actually just found that out ourselves."

"Oh," said David. "Did you know he's also one of Charlie's students?"

_"Shit," _thought Don as he sighed and leaned against the side of the SUV. "I was hoping that wasn't gonna be the case," replied Don.

"You need me back at the office yet?"

"No," replied Don. "I'm thinking that giving Kade Hackett a call before showing up at his dorm will give him a heads up. Terri and I will probably head over to CalSci to give Kade a visit at his dorm."

"Alright," said David. "See ya, Don."

"Bye."

Don hung up the phone with a sigh. Terri stared at Don. "Kade Hackett is a student of Charlie's. We're going to go pay him a visit."

Terri nodded.

XVIIIIV

David walked back into the office and found Larry and Charlie pouring over the files. Larry was pulling several folders out of he box and Charlie was reading names off the sheet.

"What are you doing?" asked David sitting down in the chair Larry had just vacated.

"Sorting them," muttered Charlie.

"How?" asked David.

"Not quiet sure yet," replied Charlie before listing off a few more names. "I'm trying to think of a way."

"Why don't you sort it by who you know it can't be and who it could possibly be?" suggested David leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Charlie's forehead creased in thought. "He won't kill the same family members again," continued David. "He's killing by who was killed in this family. Anyone with a mother, a father, and so on should be safe."

Charlie nodded, and with a sigh, Larry put the files back in the box.

"First, take out all the people who's father is the only family member living in L.A.," said Charlie.

XVIIIIV

Don and Terri walked through the campus of CalSci toward Hertz Hall where Kade Hackett was supposed to be living.

The building was large and looked to be pretty well-kept with a light tan bricks along the outside. The building was air-conditioned making a nice contrast to the humidity outside, and Don and Terri headed up the stairs to the second floor of the dormitory.

"Room 61," said Terri upon reaching Kade's dorm room.

Don nodded, reached out, and knocked loudly on the door. A loud thump came from behind the door, and a moment later, the sound of a chain being removed could be heard.

"Hello?" muttered a voice as the door cracked open a bit. A tired looking young man with messy brown hair was standing in the doorway.

"FBI," said Don as he and Terri both flashed their badges to the college student. "Is Kade Hackett here?"

"No, man," said the student shaking his head and opening the door a little more.

"Is this his dorm room?" asked Don.

"Yeah," replied the man, "but he ain't here. Got in late last night and left early this morning. Woke me up, man. He is supposed to be packing up his stuff and getting ready to leave; his last final was yesterday."

"Do you know where he might be?" asked Terri.

The man shook his head. "I never know where he's at or going. Never talks to me, man."

The kids constant use of the word 'man' was giving Don a headache. "Do you mind if we come in and ask you a few questions about Kade?"

"You got anything to do with that cop that called a day ago?" asked the man narrowing his eyes at them.

"What are you talking about?" asked Don.

"That cop," replied the man. "Det. something or other. His name was a color or something. He called and wanted to talk to Kade; he wasn't here so I took a message. When I told Kade about it later, he just got all quiet and left. He didn't even bother to call the cop back. It was weird, man."

"You said he got in late last night?" said Don as everything seemed to fall into place.

"Yeah," said the man with a nod. He look past both the agents suddenly and down in the hall. "If you want to talk to Kade, now is your chance."

Don and Terri both turned around in time to see a tall blonde haired man with a backpack slung over his shoulder walking toward them. They flashed their badges causing Kade to pause. For a moment, a look of panic crossed over his face, and the, he took off running.

Don and Terri took off after him. But the younger man managed a quick head start and was already out the front door of the dorm while Don and Terri were just getting out of the stairwell. Their chase was slowed even more by the masses of students and family members loading up belongings for the summer.

"Stop him!" shouted Don as he and Terri burst through the front doors, but passers by were too startled to stop the sprinting college student.

Kade made a sharp turn around the corner of a building while Don and Terri followed quickly, but when they rounded the corner, Kade was nowhere to be seen. He had ducked into a narrow corridor with trees going down the middle.

"You go down that side," said Don pointing down the left; he himself took the right. Both agents unholstered their guns and started down the narrow corridor.

Don and Terri made sure to check behind the trees whose trunks were large enough to hide a human body and in doorways that showed up along the walls of the building. The doors were all locked, so it was most likely Kade had not gone down there.

They were maybe halfway down the corridor when a backpack came swinging out from behind the tree nailing Don in the stomach and knocking the wind out of him.

Don attempted to shout look out to Terri, but only a gasp came out, and Don could only watch as the backpack swung out again nailing Terri in the shoulder. She fell against the wall, and Kade took off back down the corridor.

"I've got him!" shouted Terri taking off after Kade as Don attempted to draw a breath into his lungs and get back to his feet. Terri sprinted back out the corridor after Kade, but the college student was no where to be seen.

With a sigh, Terri holstered her gun and returned to where Don was slowly getting to his feet. "You alright?" asked Terri setting a hand on Don's shoulder.

"Yeah," replied Don rubbing his stomach, "but we've got to catch this guy. I want campus police on alert for him and a picture sent out, and I also want us to start getting a warrant so we can search his room. Have the local police notified, too." Don started back out of the corridor.

"Where are you going?" asked Terri following her friend.

"Charlie's office," replied Don. "Maybe's he's had better luck than us."

XVIIIIV

I'm sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter is up, but I tried to make it worthwhile. Action, plot twists, and it's long. Chapter 13 is typed, but twelve isn't finished. I don't know when it will be done, but it shouldn't be quite as long of a wait.


	12. Chapter XII

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: Sorry, it took so long, but I had some trouble with this chapter. Please enjoy. Reviews welcome. PS: SCHOOL'S OUT!

**Blood Relatives **

Chapter Twelve

_"You're a man haunted by those two most terrible words; What if?" The Time Machine_

Multiple piles of manila folders decorated Charlie's office, and Charlie, Larry, and David were crowded around the desk sorting through the box still sitting on the desk.

"Hey," said Don when he entered the room a little surprised by the small forest of folders spread about the room. "What are you guys doing?"

Charlie looked up from the sheet of paper in his hand. "Sorting files," replied Charlie, "by who is most unlikely to be targeted to those likely to be the next victims."

"How do you know that?" asked Don picking up a folder; Charlie quickly pulled it out of Don's hands and put it back on the pile.

"By the murders that have already taken place," replied Charlie.

"What?" asked Don.

"The agents who only have a mother or a father or both living in L.A. have been put in those piles," continued Larry. "Whoever your killer is doesn't seem to be doubling back and will probably go on to the last three murders."

"We could have done that," said Don walking over to the desk; he was about to move a stack of folders taking up a chair when Charlie suddenly stopped him.

"Don't move those," ordered Charlie. "Larry and I have got all these sorted a specific way."

"Hey," said David leaning forward. "I helped." Don sighed and moved over to sit on the corner of the desk.

Charlie continued sorting, but started speaking as he did so. "We're going a little further than just who it probably isn't, Don," said Charlie putting a folder into a stack. "There's got to be a reason for picking these agents' family members over others. There are seven agents with both a mother and a father living in L.A.. Why weren't one of those people killed? Once I have all the files sorted, I can take a closer look at who it is and who it isn't and who it could be and maybe come up with why." He paused. "How sure are you Kade Hackett is your guy?"

Don scoffed. "Pretty damn sure, Charlie. Terri and I just chased him across the campus. When got him cornered in a corridor, he hit me in the stomach with a backpack and Terri in the shoulder and got away. We just spent the twenty minutes talking to campus security and getting word out on Kade. Why?"

"If I know who is committing these murders," said Charlie, pointing to one of the folders. "I might have a better chance at figuring out his pattern." He paused again. "There is no one in here whose grandmother lives in L.A."

"What?" said Terri a little confused.

"None of these files have anyone with a grandmother living in L.A.," repeated Charlie.

"Shit," muttered Don. "We set the criteria before we got the Hackett case file. We were only looking immediate family members.

"How long will it take to do the search again?" asked Larry.

"I'm not sure," replied Don. "Agent Brock was working on that." He sighed. "We've got to get going now; Charlie, I'll bring those files over as soon as we've got them."

David and Terri were already out the door, but Don hung back a moment. "Charlie, what time do you think you'll be head out of here tonight?"

Charlie looked up from the folder in his hands. "I'm not sure. It all really depends on how much I can get done with these profiles. Don't worry; I've got my bike here."

"That's okay, Charlie," said Don, waving his hand. "I'll give you a ride home tonight."

"That's okay, Don," said Charlie shaking his head as he walked back around his desk. "No need for you to go out of the way. Besides, I don't even know when I'll be leaving here."

Don sighed. "Charlie, I'll be coming back here anyway. Just let me give you a ride."

Charlie looked up at his brother and saw the determined look on Don's face; Charlie knew he wasn't going to win. "Fine," he relented annoyed. "I'll see you later."

Don smiled in satisfaction at winning the argument and walked out the office door.

XVIIIIV

_"Damn it," _thought Kade as he walked down the sidewalk; it had been his only thought for the past hour. _"Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it." _

_"How could this have happened?" _Kade continued to himself. He was walking with his head down so hopefully no one would recognize him. _"I was careful. How could they have found me? Greene was the only one who knew. I got rid of him." _He stopped walking for a moment causing someone to walk into him. "Sorry," muttered Kade as he began walking again. _"Greene must have called someone before I got there; talked to somebody in the FBI. FUCK!"_

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Kade turned around a corner. _"I'm going to have to step it up," _thought Kade. "_I have to get this done."_

He looked up and noticed for the first time where he had been unconsciously headed. Kade smiled as he quickly rethought his plan; his high school teachers had always told him he thought best on his feet. Everything he needed was in his backpack. His laptop had a all the information he needed on his targets. He had his weapons; he wasn't stupid enough to leave those in his dorm, and now, he was headed to a place where he could hide out for a few hours.

XVIIIIV

Don, Terri, and David arrived back at the office with a game plan already in mind. "Where's Agent Brock?" Don asked an agent he knew had been working with her.

"The tyrant is in there," replied the agent with a jerked of his thumb over his shoulder; Don looked up to see Agent Brock talking to someone working on a computer. The person on the computer seemed to be looking desperately for a way out. "Now, if you'll excuse me," continued the agent, "I have been trying to get away from that woman all day." He hurried on his way, and Don couldn't blame him.

"David," said Don, "I want you to see how we're doing on getting a warrant for Kade's dorm room."

"Alright," said David with a quick nod.

"Terri, call Mr. and Mrs. Paige and see if they would be willing to come in and talk to us again. We need to find out where Kade might be going and fast."

She gave a quick nod in response before she and David hurried away. "I get to go face the dragon," muttered Don sarcastically.

He walked into the room just as Agent Brock was finishing up the whatever she had ordered the agent at the computer to do because the young woman at the computer began to type quickly as soon as Don walked over. Like the other agent, she looked desperate to get out also.

"Hello, Agent Eppes," said Brock as she read the computer over the woman's shoulder.

"Agent Brock," replied Don. "We need to do another search." He decided to cut right to the chase.

"What?" said Brock, turning to face him.

"The first search," continued Don, "we only looked for agents with immediate family in the area."

"Yeah. That was the criteria you gave me. So?"

"We need to do a search for agents with a grandmother living in the L.A. area," replied Don. "We got a file from Det. Greene that gave us more insight into this case."

"When was this?" demanded Brock angry that she had been left out of the loop.

"It was just this morning," replied Don, "but it has to be done as soon as possible. We don't know when this next murder is going to take place, and we're in the process of trying to find where or killer might have gone."

When Don looked up again, Agent Brock was glaring at him, and he knew that if looks could kill, he would have been dead. "It's nice to know that when I'm working with you Agent Eppes I get to be kept in the loop. I'm not at the bottom of my team, you know?"

"I know, Agent Brock," said Don, returning the glare, "but we just found the information ourselves."

"Fine," said Brock, turning back to the screen. "Agents with grandmothers in the area. That shouldn't too hard." The sarcasm in her voice was biting.

Don stared at her for a moment. "How soon do you think you'll get it done?"

"I don't know." She was still staring at the screen.

"Could I talk to you for a moment, Agent Brock?" asked Don.

Brock sighed and followed Don out of the room; the woman at the computer breathed a sigh of relief.

"What is your problem, Agent Brock?" asked Don when they were out of the room. "I understand that you don't like having to work with me or my team and that you normally have much more authority, but you don't have to disrespect my team because of it."

Brock stared at him for a moment. "I have a sister, Agent Eppes," said Brock. "She lives in L.A.. Right down town actually, and you know what? I don't feel like I'm doing a damn thing to protect her." She turned away returning to the room they had just left.

Don sighed. _"I know how you feel," _thought Don as he went to find David and Terri.

XVIIIIV

Kade had always loved his childhood home. It was one of the few two story houses in a middle-class neighborhood near the edge of Los Angeles with pale blue siding and a large front porch. Kade was surprised that some sly-realtor hadn't been able to sell it to some family with little kids and a dog or something, but apparently the history far out-weighed the local and size of the house.

Now, the house had been condemned after seven years of neglect and vandalism. On the side of the house "Slaughterhouse" had been spray-painted, and several windows had been knocked out. Kade knew the state of his old home was probably making the residents of the neighborhood very mad, and that it would probably be knocked down soon. While the prospect of his childhood home being destroyed angered him, Kade knew there was nothing he could do about it. He only really needed the house for one night anyway.

Kade walked up the creaking old stairs and carefully over the boards of the old porch. _"My father would never have lit it get this way," _thought Kade as he stepped over a broken board.

"Shit!" muttered Kade angrily when he saw the realtor lock box over the doorknob.

With a frustrated sigh, Kade crossed back over the porch. He hurried around to the side of the house and saw a broken window just above his head. Taking a quick look over his shoulder, Kade saw a fence around the property was still intact and would hide his entrance through a window.

It took a lot of effort, but Kade managed to push open the window and hoist himself up. He paused for a moment when he was inside the house. Just across the space between the two houses was another window, and a little girl was staring at him wide-eyed.

Kade held a finger to his lips and plastered a pleading look on his face. The little girl nodded and ran away from the window. Kade breathed a sigh of relief and looked around the room he had climbed into; it was his grandmother's.

"Damn it," muttered Kade as he hurried out of the room. Of all the rooms in the house, he had to crawl into this one.

The paint on the walls was fading and stained as he walked down the hall to the living room. Looking through the doorway, Kade saw that all the furniture had been taken out of the room and someone had gone to a lot of trouble to remove the blood from the carpet, but he could still see the murder scene all to clear in his mind.

Kade was shaking badly as he walked back down the hallway to the kitchen and sat down. He didn't need or want to see anymore rooms of the house; it was bringing back way too many bad memories. Kade found it aggravating how he could only remember the bad and none of the good.

"Don't worry," Kade murmured to himself in a lulling tone. "I've got it all taken care of." He sat there for a long time before he broke down and started to sob.

XVIIIIV

"We need to figure out where Kade might be going," said Don as he stared at the board where they had pinned all the information on the case. "He must be close to somebody; someone must know where he might be going."

"Maybe Charlie would know," suggested Terri.

"No," said David with a shake of his head. "When Charlie told me about him earlier, he didn't really know anything other than his name and that he's a good student in one of his classes."

Don sighed. "Well, try anyway; anything Charlie can think of might help us find this kid. David, I want you to work with CalSci Campus Police and see if you can find anyone who might know Kade well enough to know where he might be hiding out."

"You think he's still in L.A.?" asked David a little surprised. "You don't think he's left town?"

"No," replied Terri for Don. "He doesn't care about the risks; he wants his revenge, and he's not leaving till he's finished."

"Terri and I are going to talk to the Paiges again, see what we can find put about their precious grandson.

"I'm not one hundred percent sure they're going to tell us anything," said Terri. "It seems pretty hard for either of them to believe that Kade would do anything wrong."

"It's still worth a try," said Don undeterred. "David, check with Agent Brock before you go. I want to see if she has those names yet."

David nodded and rose from his seat.

"Let's go, Terri," said Don following David out.

XVIIIIV

A quick call to the Paiges brought Laura and James down to the FBI offices and across the interview table from Terri and Don. James Paige, however, looked much less helpful with an angry look plastered on his face, and Laura looked downright petrified.

"I demand to know what is going on this minute, agents!" shouted James angrily, looking ready to leap across the table and shake his finger in their faces. "First, you come to our home and ask us several questions about our only grandchild, which I must add we were very polite about answering, and then you leave without even a hint at what it was all about. Now, you've called us down here like we're common criminals."

"Mr. Paige," said Don calmly, "if I can correct you, we did not call you down here like you were common criminals. If you were criminals we would have come to your house and arrested you. We called you down here so maybe you could help us locate your grandson."

"Why I never!" shouted James angrily, jumping from his seat.

"Please calm down, dear," said Laura, setting a calming hand on her husband's arm; it seemed to work because James slowly took a seat again. "You must understand, Agent Eppes," continued Laura, turning toward Don, but not taking her hand off her husband, "Kade is our only grandson, and we're very worried. We just want to know what is going on. Maybe if we did, we could help more."

"We understand that, Mrs. Paige," said Terri; Don and James were still glaring at each other. "Do you know about the murders that have taken place in L.A. over the past week?"

"Yes," replied James, answering for his wife. "We've read about them in the newspaper, but what the Hell does that have to do with Kade?"

"Mr. Paige," said Don calmly, "all of the victims were related to a member of the FBI. The first family member was a father, then a sister, then a mother, then brother."

Laura Paige grew very pale very fast as Don spoke, but James only grew more agitated. "Are you accusing Kade of this?" demanded James near hysterics as he slammed his fist down on the table.

"We believe that Kade might be involved," replied Don. "There were notes talking about revenge against a crime seven years ago; and a reference to a brother. We went to talk to your grandson, he ran from us and assaulted both me and another agent."

"Kade would never...," started Laura, but her voice trailed off.

"We need to find your grandson," said Terri, sitting down in a chair close to Laura; the elderly woman would be easier to get through to than her husband. "Even if Kade isn't involved; he might still be able to help us. Anything you can tell us might be able to help us."

"I'm sorry, Agent Lake," said Laura; James shifted in his chair and set his hand on her shoulder.

"About what, Mrs. Paige?"

By now, the elderly woman had tears running down her face as she continued. "I didn't tell you all that we knew earlier," said Laura. "Kade didn't go directly to college after high school."

"Laura, stop it!" shouted James angrily.

"He had a break down about a month after his high school graduation," said Laura, resting her head in her hands after she continued to sob and talk. "He was at a party and attacked four of the guys there for no reason. They called the police on Kade, and they gave his a psych evaluation. The doctor said he would benefit from this hospital, and Kade was there for a year and a half."

"Laura," said James, his voice much quieter, "please stop."

"We visited him at least twice a week. The doctor said he was getting better, and we thought he was, too. Kade would talk to us and smile, and he even told us a little bit about how he felt abut the murders. He seemed like he was going to be okay, like he was gonna be Kade again." Laura looked up at the agents, and tears had made tracks down through her make up.

"What did he tell you?" asked Terri quietly, putting her hand on Laura's forearm.

"Kade said that he had been confused," said Laura, "that he didn't know where the blame for all of it really laid. I always thought he finally came to terms with the fact it was the murderer's fault. I never thought he meant this at all."

"Laura!" shouted James angrily as he jumped up from his chair. "You can't possibly believe that Kade killed those people!"

"I don't know what to believe anymore, James," said Laura sadly. "I just want my Kade back."

James took a threatening step toward his wife, and Don quickly covered the distance between himself and the elderly man.

"Mr. Paige," said Don as calmly as he could, "I'm going to ask you to sit down and control your temper, or I am going to be forced to make you leave the room."

"You don't know what you're saying, Laura," said James in a pleading tone he tried to step past Don to his wife. "You're condemning your grandson. He couldn't have done this."

"He needs help, Mrs. Paige," pleaded Terri, "but you have to help us first. Where could he possibly be."

"Don't say anything, Laura," said James, trying to shove past Don again. "We need to get a lawyer."

"Mr. Paige, I am going to have to ask you to leave the room," said Don forcefully as he took hold of James's arm and began to lead him out of the room.

"Don't say anything, Laura!" shouted James as he was pushed through the doorway.

Laura watched in horror as James continued to fight against Don as he left and then turned back to Terri. "He was never like this before," she said quietly.

"Who?" asked Terri quietly. "Kade?"

"No," said Laura before pausing. "Yes. I meant James, but Kade, too. This is just all so messed up." She placed her head in her hands and rubbed her temples as if a headache was forming. "Kade was a good boy. I don't understand how he could have done this. Why?"

"I don't know," said Terri calmly, "but you need to help us. Is there anywhere you can think of that Kade might be hiding?"

Laura remained quiet for several minutes, and Terri looked up to the window and saw Don looking in on them both; James was nowhere to be seen. Terri pleaded silently for Don to think of anything; she was pretty sure she was losing Laura, but Don could only shrug.

"I can only think of two places," muttered Laura sniffling a bit. "He might go to our house thinking we could help or..."

"Or where Laura?"

"He loved his home. It was a nice house very nice." She paused. "It was big enough for all the kids, and there was a yard. Kade loved it there. Even after the deaths, Kade would go there and just sit. We would constantly have to go there and pick him up after neighbors would call us." Laura took a deep breath. "If he went anywhere in L.A., he went there."

Terri gave Laura a reassuring smile and took a deep breath. "Thank you, Laura."

"Please find him," said Laura. "Please."

XVIIIIV

Melody walked into her daughter's playroom and saw her clutching a teddy bear while sitting in front of the window that faced the neighboring house; it was an old broken down building that needed to be torn down.

"Hannah, sweetie," she said with a smile. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting," replied Hannah, adjusting the bear in her lap.

"Who are you waiting for, sweetheart?"

"The Window Man."

"What do you mean?" asked Melody slightly unnerved.

"I can't say anymore," said Hannah with a shrug. "The Window Man said not to." She set the bear on the floor next to her and turned to face her mother.

"He talked to you, sweetie?" asked Melody as she took a few cautious steps toward the window to try and see who her daughter was talking about.

Hannah shook her head. "No. When he crawled through the window of the old house, he saw me and put his finger to his lips like this." Hannah demonstrated enthusiastically even making a shushing sound. "Mommy, is he gonna be mad that I told you?"

Melody shook her head several times as she looked to the other house and saw that the window was empty.

"Come on, Hannah," said Melody, grabbing her daughter's hand. "I'll go put _Aladdin_ on for you in the living room."

"But I want to go outside and play!" whined Hannah, easily distracted from the matter at hand.

"It's too hot to go outside now, Hannah. Maybe later. Can you tell me what the Window Man looked like?"

After a brief description of the man from her daughter, Melody set Hannah and her bear on the couch, pushed play on the movie, and then rushed to the kitchen to call the police.

XVIIIIV

"Thank you for the information, Officer Tate," said Terri into her cell phone. "Yes, if you could wait to enter till we get there. Thank you. Good-bye." Terri closed the phone and turned to Don who had been casting sidelong glances at her since she had answered the phone.

"Someone called the police telling them about a breaking and entering in the house next to hers. Turns out her daughter saw a man who resembled Kade climb into the abandoned house next door. That house is Kade's old address. The police are waiting to enter till we get there."

"Good," said Don with a quick nod.

"Did you ever get Mr. Paige to calm down?"

Don laughed. "Yeah, after I threatened to arrest him. He did not look happy when he and his wife left though."

"I feel bad for Mrs. Paige. She knew she was doing the right thing, but how terrible must it have felt for her to rat out her own grandson?"

Don nodded and then struggled to hold back a yawn.

"How much sleep have you actually gotten since this case started?" asked Terri, studying Don carefully.

"Enough," replied Don with a shrug.

"That's bull!"

"I'm fine. You're almost as bad as my dad."

"It was just an observation." She shrugged and leaned forward as they turned down a suburban street. "That must be it," said Terri, pointing ahead to a house with faded-blue siding that had been attacked by vandalism; a cop car had been parked a few houses down.

Don parked the SUV behind the cop car and got out studying the old Hackett home carefully. It had once been a very nice house with blue siding and pella-windows, but spray paint and weather had ruined the siding and almost all the windows had been smashed.

"How are you, agents?" asked a veteran cop who was hurrying over to them followed by an eager looking young rookie. "Is it hot enough for you?"

"Hello," said Don, ignoring his attempts at idle conversation. "Are you Officer Tate?" The office nodded.

"I'm Special Agent Don Eppes, and this is my partner Agent Terri Lake." He extended his hand, and the office shook it warmly.

"I'm Officer John Tate, and this is Officer Cody Marts," replied the officer after shaking Terri's hand also.

"We've met actually," said the rookie nervously, pointing to Don; Tate turned toward him. "Sorta. The other night at the station after Det. Greene was killed. I was still on duty."

Tate turned back toward Don and studied him carefully. "So you were that agent. Terrible news about Paul. He was a good cop. I worked with him a few years back."

Don nodded and Terri quickly jumped in to the subject sensing that Don was uncomfortable. "What do you know about the break in?"

"A woman called about half an hour ago saying that her little girl had seen a man climb into the house next door," explained Tate. "She said her daughter said he looked like he was tall and had blonde hair. It was a very rough description, but considering the address, we thought we would call you."

"Have you seen any movement inside the house?" asked Don, looking toward the windows.

"No," replied Tate. "We've been trying to keep our distance so we won't warn him about us being here; it's kind of hard to see from here."

"Okay," said Don with a nod. "We should probably go in two groups. One to the back and one to the front. Do you know how many entries there are to the house?"

"Just the two," replied Tate; Marts was remaining quiet. "One on the back porch and one of the front."

Don nodded. "Okay." He studied Officer Tate and Officer Marts carefully for a moment. "Officer Tate, you and Terri can take the front entrance, and Officer Marts and I will take the back."

Tate nodded, smiled, and then turned toward Marts. "You're finally getting the excitement you've been wanting, Cody." The young officer rolled his eyes and followed Don as he started around to the back of the house.

Don looked up as they walked between the fence that separated the two yards. Above him was a window that had been pushed open. Don guessed that spot was how Kade got into the house; he only hoped he wasn't going to have to follow that example.

The back of the house had a large porch with a roof hanging down over it, and Don saw, with great relief, that the lock box that had been put on by a realtor had not been locked again. He and Marts carefully walked across the boards trying to avoid the ones that were broken and cracked. The door was locked, but a few shoves against the door with their shoulders pushed the door open.

The room behind the door was the kitchen which was dank and dusty with cobwebs all around the room. It was unbearably hot and hard to breath in because of how long it had been closed up, but the two continued through it anyway. Marts reached for the light switch and flipped it, but no lights came on.

"Did you really expect the power to still be connected to this house? It's been seven years."

Marts shrugged. "I didn't know," he said quietly as he reached for the flashlight hanging from his belt. He flicked it on, and light flooded the small kitchen.

"Sorry," muttered Don, feeling guilty a bit.

"Should one of us take the upstairs?" asked Marts, looking around as they walked out of the kitchen and into a hallway.

"No. There is a very good chance that Kade is armed."

"Why would he hide out here? Wouldn't he think this would be the first place the FBI would look?"

Don shook his head. "According to his grandmother, Kade was very attached to this house."

Don paused for a second in the hallway and grabbed he flashlight from Marts' hands and shined it on the floor. A tag was lying on the floor in the doorway of the kitchen.

"What's that?" asked Marts as Don bent down to pick it up.

"It was Kade's," replied Don, reading the plastic covered piece of paper that gave Kade's dorm address.

"Don," said Terri as she and Tate hurried over to them. "Tate and I are going to check out the second floor."

"Okay," said Don. "Be extremely careful."

The two teams scoured the entire house, but neither one of them could find any other sign Kade.

"How the Hell could he have gotten out?" demanded Don as the two groups had met up in the kitchen.

"No idea," answered Terri. "The front door had a box lock on it, and we couldn't find any open windows upstairs. We had to climb through a window on the front porch just to get in, so I can't imagine how Kade got out."

"And you know what," added Tate, "climbing through was not an easy task for a fat man." He patted his stomach in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Are you sure you didn't see anyone leave?" asked Don.

"Yes," replied Tate with a nod. "We were watching the house from the second we got here."

Don sighed and Terri massaged her forehead trying to think. "Somehow," she said quietly, "he must have know we were coming."

"Damn it!" shouted Don, kicking the wall angrily. "We're going to put this house under constant surveillance."

"You think he's actually going to come back here?" asked Marts.

"No," answered Don, "but I'm not taking any chances. Can we talk to the woman who called in about Kade?"

"Sure," replied Tate. "She lives right next door."

As the four were exiting the house, Terri leaned over to Don. "What are we going to do if the woman can't tell us anything?"

"I don't know," answered Don. "I guess we go talk to Charlie."

XVIIIIV

Kade wished he could go into a restaurant or store for a little while to rest and get out of the heat, but he knew he had to keep moving or risk someone recognizing him. Back at the house had been too close, but he was lucky to have woken up in time. He had gone back down the hall and glanced into his grandmother's room just in time to see a young woman staring into the house looking petrified.

At first, Kade thought she had seen him, but after he had ducked back into the hallway and only taken a few glances back, he realized she hadn't. It was still too late. The little girl had undoubtedly told her mother about him, and the mother would be calling the police any second.

Kade had gone to the kitchen closet and pulled up the rug covering the small trapdoor to the basement and, with his backpack slung over his shoulder, climbed down into it shutting the door behind him. The door was hard enough to see that if a person was looking for it, they would still have troubling finding it; he felt this way was a safe bet.

There was a small window that opened up into the side yard of the house, and it wasn't easy, but Kade managed to squeeze through it. He had hurried down the street just as the police were showing up.

Now, however, Kade needed to find Patricia Hutter, and fast. He was so close to being done with everything that he could almost taste sweet satisfaction. Everything he needed was in his backpack; he wasn't one to leave incriminating evidence lying around his dorm. Kade suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, causing another person to walk right into him, and thought about the drawer full of newspaper clippings.

"Shit!" he said loudly as he started walking again. He then sighed. "There isn't really anything I can do about it now. They already know it's me."

A smile crept onto his face as another realization hit him. "Now, that they do know who I am, I can have a little more fun with them." He quickened his pace suddenly, needing someplace to hook up his computer to do some research.

XVIIIIV

Sorry, it took so long. Critiques welcome.


	13. Chapter XIII

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: Thanks to my beta Dre for quick work on this chapter. Any leftover mistakes are my own. I hope you all enjoy this chapters. As always, reviews and advice are welcome.

**Blood Relatives **

Chapter Thirteen

_"Oh, my friend, it's not what they take away from you that counts. It's what you do with what you have left." William Cowper_

The house next to Kade's was only a single story, but it was well kept with quite a few children's toys sitting on the porch. Tate knocked loudly on the screen door and waited for it to be answered. The wooden door opened and a little girl, no older than five, stared back at them through the screen.

"Hello," said Tate, putting on a big smile and leaning to the girl's level. "Is your mommy home?"

The little girl stared at them for a moment keeping a tight grip on the door. "My mommy says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"Well," said Tate, continuing to smile, "that is very smart of your mommy, but it is very important that we talk to her." He reached down to his belt and pulled up his badge for the little girl to see. "My friends and I are police officers." The girl stared at the badge for a moment and then turned around.

"MOMMY!" shouted the girl loudly to the back of the house.

A young woman came hurrying into the living room wiping her hands on a towel. "What is it, Hannah? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Mommy, but there are police men here."

The woman looked at the agents and officers and gave them a polite, but nervous smile. She straightened her clothes and looked around uncomfortably at the mess around her house. "What can I do for you?" she asked as she hurried over to open the door.

"Were you the one who called in about the breaking and entering next door?" asked Tate as the woman let them in.

"Yes," replied the woman, nodding. "I'm Melody Hodges; it was my daughter, Hannah, who actually saw the man though."

Don and Terri looked to the couch and saw Hannah sitting watching the TV; the sounds of Aladdin fighting the giant snake filled the background, and the girl looked on edge as if the hero was going to make it or not.

"Would it be okay if we spoke with her for a few minutes?" asked Terri, looking back toward Melody.

"Sure," replied Melody, nodding.

Don and Terri walked over to Hannah while Marts and Tate stayed to explain things to Melody.

"Hello, Hannah," said Terri quietly as she sat down on the edge of the couch; Don sat down in a recliner.

"Hi," said Hannah, picking up her bear.

"My name is Terri, and this is my friend Don." Hannah looked up at them both and then back to the television.

"Can we ask you about the man you saw next door?" asked Terri. "It's very important."

Hannah looked up and gave Terri a funny look. "You mean the window man?"

"Yes," replied Terri a little unsure of herself. "Can you tell me what he looked like?"

Hannah nodded. "He was tall, and he had yellow hair."

"Yellow hair?" said Don, jumping into the conversation.

"Yeah," answered Hannah, nodding enthusiastically. "Like Mommy's."

Don and Terri looked over quickly at Melody Hodges' bleach blonde hair and then back to Hannah.

"What did he do, Hannah?" asked Don, giving the girl an encouraging smile.

"He climbed through the window, and when he saw me, he put his finger to his lips." Hannah demonstrated and then continued. "I nodded, and he walked away."

"Did he do anything else?" asked Terri.

Hannah shook her head and grabbed her bear tightly. "I waited for him to come back, but he never did." By now, the movie was over, and the little girl seemed more capable of focusing. "Am I in trouble?"

"No," said Terri, shaking her head. "You're not. You did a good thing."

Hannah smiled widely at them both revealing two missing teeth.

"Thank you for talking to us, Hannah," said Don as he and Terri both got back to their feet.

"You're welcome," said Hannah.

Melody watched them carefully as they walked back over to her and the officers. "Are we in any danger?" she asked nervously; it was apparent that Marts and Tate had explained to her about Kade.

"It's very unlikely that our suspect is even going to come back here, Mrs. Hodges," explained Don, "but we are putting that house under constant surveillance in case he does. You're not in any danger."

The woman seemed to relax a little, but she was till glancing at her daughter nervously. "I called the police right after Hannah told me, but I don't know how long it was before that she actually saw him." She paused for a second. "He knows what Hannah looks like."

"I know," said Don, trying to reassure the woman, "but there are going to be officers watching the house. You'll both be safe. I want to thank you very much for your help Mrs. Hodges." Don pulled a card out of his pocket. "If you or Hannah can think of anything else, please contact us."

Melody nodded and took the card from Don. They exited with a quick good-bye to Melody and Hannah and hurried back to their own vehicles.

"Thank you for you help," said Don as he unlocked the doors of his SUV.

"Wait one second, Agent Eppes," said Tate, holding up a finger liking a teacher trying to intimidate a student; Don turned toward him. "I have a question for you."

"What?"

"Is the man we were looking for in that house the same man who shot Paul Greene?" asked Tate; both he and Officer Marts were watching him carefully.

"Yeah." Don nodded. "Pretty sure."

Tate shook his head. "Catch that bastard," the officer mutter as he and his partner got into the car and drove away.

"He was there," said Don as he and Terri climbed into the car. "I found a tag off a backpack or something that belonged to Kade. He's a lot smarter than I would have expected."

"What did you expect?" asked Terri solemnly. "All he did after his family's death was study. He isn't a stupid man."

"The best shot we had to catch him or at least get one step ahead of him was back at the dorm." Don slammed the palm of his hand against the steering wheel causing the horn to go off and startling Terri and few drivers on the road; one flipped them the bird. "I can't believe he's gotten away twice now."

"We'll catch him, Don." Terri placed her hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "We'll catch him."

XVIIIIV

David and another agent from the office stood at the CalSci campus, warrant in hand, waiting for one of the campus police officers to meet them and take them to Kade's dorm room. They had called earlier, but he guard was running late.

"Where is he?" asked the agent, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

"I don't know," replied David. "Maybe he's lost."

The agent turned around and looked at the office of campus security and then back to David. "If they don't know where their own office is, I don't see what kind of help they're going to be able to give us."

David was about to respond when a man in a campus security guard's uniform came rushing up to them. "Sorry, I'm late," said the man as he tried to catch his breath. "There was a fight on the other side of the campus between two parents over who hit who's car, and I completely forgot I was supposed to meet you here." He brushed his hand off on his pant leg and then extended it to David. "I'm Officer Doug Adams." Both David and the agent shook the hand. "I'm Agent David Sinclair, and this Agent Korey Benton."

"You're the one's who have the search warrant for that one student's dorm, right?" asked Adams, pointing at them and studying them carefully.

"Yep," answered David, returning the man's careful looks.

Adams nodded and gestured for them to follow him into the security office. The office was a nice cool contrast thanks to a noisy air-conditioner running on full blast in one of the windows. There were four wooden desks in the office; three that were almost completely devoid of anything except a phone and a few pens and pencils, but the last had a computer and was covered in paper. A young woman was sitting at the desk typing furiously.

"What building is this kid's dorm room in again?" asked Adams as he sat down at a desk and picked up the phone.

"Hertz," replied David after a quick glance at the search warrant in his hand.

"Alright," said Adams. "I'll call maintenance over there so they'll be waiting for us." He dialed a number into the phone and while it rang, he asked, "Why are you guys after this kid anyway? He kill somebody?"

David and the other agent both remained quiet, and Adams waited for an answer until the person on the other end picked up. "Hey, Wayne," said Doug, leaning back in the chair. "It's Doug. Look, I need you to unlock one of the dorms over there." A pause. "Hold on." He set the phone against his shoulder. "What dorm number is it?"

David checked the warrant again. "217."

"217, Wayne." He paused again. "We'll be over there in a few minutes. Thanks, Wayne." Adams hung up the phone and stood up. "Let's get going."

David and the agent followed Adams out; they couldn't help but notice how the woman working at the computer roller her eyes as they walked out.

"We've had the police over here with search warrants before," said Adams, trying to make conversation. "Turns out she was growing marijuana in a flower pot in his dorm."

David stared at Adams and shook his head but did not reply.

"I don't know what you think you're going to find in his dorms," said Adams. "This kid probably moved all his stuff out by now."

"We'll see," replied David as they same up upon Hertz Hall. Families were still emptying out the dorm rooms, but there didn't seem to be as many as there had been before.

"It's on the second floor," said Adams as they walked into the building; the air-conditioning must have been broken because the inside of the dormitory was stifling hot.

The three men climbed the stairs, the elevators were packed, and stepped into a second floor hallway that was nearly deserted except for a man in a maintenance uniform standing outside a doorway looking board.

"Hey, Wayne!" shouted Adams, jogging up ahead of them to greet the man. "Thanks for coming up."

"You know me," said the maintenance man, Wayne. "I have a tendency to do my job."

"And you're a better man for it," said Adams, clapping the man on the shoulder; he turned toward the agents. "This is Agent Sinclair and Agent Benton."

"Nice to meet you," said Wayne as he shook their hands.

"Same here," said David.

"We need you to open this door here," said Adams, tapping on door 217 with his index finger.

"Actually," said David, interrupting the guard. "We've got to knock first."

He brushed past the maintenance man and Adams and walked up to the dorm door. David knocked loudly while saying, "FBI, open the door!"

The four people waited for an answer, but it never came.

David knocked again saying his order louder this time. "FBI, OPEN UP!" The door remained shut, and David motioned for Wayne to open the door. The man rushed over and took out a key ring that was attached to his belt and chose a key. He inserted it into the lock, turned it, and opened the door.

David, Benton, and Adams walked into the room and looked around. One half of the room was completely empty save for a few boxes and books on the stripped mattress, while the other looked as if it was still being lived in. There was a bookcase still filled with books, a desk with a few cords that looked as if they attached to a laptop or another kind of computer, a bed with sheets and blankets, a night stand, TV, and a few other things. It looked as if a few packing efforts had been made on this side; a few cardboard boxes sat at the foot of the bed, but they were near empty.

"Why haven't they moved out yet?" David heard Wayne asked Adams.

Adams ignored him and walked further into the room. "What exactly are you looking for Agent Sinclair?" asked Adams, picking up a small bottle of shampoo that was lying on the dresser. "It looks like a pretty normal college student's dorm to me."

"Well," said David, slightly annoyed, "I didn't plan on what I was looking for to be lying all over the floor, hence the search warrant. Besides, this guy is too smart to just leave evidence to be used against him lying all over the floor." David looked at the near empty side of the room and then back to the other. "When do the students have to have their dorms cleaned out?"

"Day afta tomorrow," replied Wayne.

"What happens to the stuff if the students don't collect?" asked Benton as he looked through the books on the shelf.

"School keeps it," replied the maintenance man. "The students can come in and claim it, but it's a pretty long process. If they never come and get it, we either through it away, keep it, or donate it."

"Who are you people, and what are you doing in my room?" demanded a voice from the open doorway.

All four people turned around to see a tired, looking young man with messy brown hair standing in the doorway staring at them. David and Benton quickly pulled out their badges to show to the man while Adams just stood there and looked nervously around the room.

"I'm Agent Sinclair," said David. "I have a search warrant for this room." He pointed to the empty side of the room. "Is this your stuff?"

"Yeah," replied the man. "I'm Daniel Westman, man. This is my room."

"Where's your roommate, Kade Hackett?"

"I haven't seen him since these two FBI agents came here earlier and chased him off. What the Hell is going on?"

David turned toward Benton. "Start looking," said David before turning back to Daniel. "What can you tell me about Kade?"

"Not much, man," replied Daniel with a shrug. "He don't talk much. I always try to joke around with the dude, but he just kind of glares at me and goes back to work or leaves. I think he think he's better than me. Hung that stupid Valedictorian thing up the day he moved in. He was a bit of a jerk. What did he do, man?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," replied David solemnly. "Can you tell me where Kade spent his time or who he hung out with?"

"No, man." Daniel shook his head. "I only ever saw Kade in two places other than this dorm room. One time when I was going to class and once in the cafeteria. As for friends or anyone he hung out with, I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't think he hung out with anyone or anyone wanted to hang out with him. He was little bit of a downer. Never talked to anyone that I saw, man."

"David, you might want to come take a look at this," said Benton who was standing over the open drawer of the night stand.

"Excuse," David said to Daniel as he walked over to where the other agent was standing. David looked into the drawer and saw several newspaper clippings stacked into a neat pile in the corner. He reached into the drawer and took the stack, recognizing the man in the picture on top immediately as Gary Bolin. David continued through the stack finding both the articles and pictures for Allison Lanskey and Prue Boyd in there.

"Looks like we have our man," muttered Benton, staring in shock at the clippings.

Daniel got sick of trying to guess what they were looking at and wandered over to them. "What did you find, man?" he asked, looking over their shoulders; he stared at the newspaper clippings for a second. "Aren't those the people who were murdered...?" He paused. "Oh my God. My roommate is a murderer."

David turned around and glared angrily at Daniel, but turned quickly when he heard a thud. Adams had collapsed into a desk chair when he heard the news, and Wayne was leaning heavily against the doorframe; both were looking very pale.

XVIIIIV

Don and Terri returned to the office spirits lower than when they had left. Failures in tracking down their suspect were costing them valuable time and could possibly cost someone their life.

"What's our next step?" asked Don with a sigh as he collapsed into the chair at his desk.

"Pray David had much better luck," suggested Terri as she sat on the edge of the desk; she gave Don a half-hearted grin as he rolled his eyes at her. "We could see if Agent Brock has found the grandmothers yet?"

"You can," said Don. "She hates my guts."

"She's hates everyone's guts. Don't think your special." Don laughed. It was a small almost snort, but it was the first time in nearly a week that he had laughed. "He's human again," exclaimed Terri sarcastically.

Don shook his head. "There's got to be something we can do. We have to be missing something. Anything. Even the tiniest detail can be important."

"If we could just understand Kade just a little bit more," said Terri. "There has to be a reason for who and when he's killing."

"We know why those people are killed," said Don. "They're were all related to an FBI member, but why those people out of all those people?"

"That's something I hope Charlie can tell us. He and Kade seem to have a lot in common."

Don looked up quickly at Terri staring at her wide-eyed. "What? I'm not saying Charlie's going to become some horrible serial killer. I'm just saying they have a few common characteristics. They're both very intelligent, they both have had a major loss, and both used academics in one way or another to cope with it."

"You're not making this comparison any better," said Don angrily.

"It's just an observation," said Terri, shaking her head. "Besides there are far more differences between them. Charlie had people to help him cope with the loss even if you're not going to agree with me there. Look at what Kade had, two grandparents would couldn't relate to a kid if their lives depended on it. What I think pushed Kade over the edge is the fact he never got real closure. No one really talked to him about what happened so feelings of hatred and being lost just kind of built, and instead of blaming the people who never wanted to deal with it or even the person who killed his family, he blamed the people who couldn't find the killer: the FBI."

Don shook his head again and looked up at Terri. "So, he's basically killing all these people because no one ever talked to him, because no one basically told him everything would be okay."

Terri shrugged. "Kind of."

Agent Brock came walking up to the desk carrying three manilla folders in one of her hands and a scowl on her face. "I've got your grandmothers," she said simply as she dropped the file on the desk. "There are three agents in the L.A. area with a grandmother living here too. Jadian Platt, grandmother is Lucinda Holts, Brent Erving, grandmother is Patricia Hutter, and John Slaton, grandmother is Sandra Chockley."

"Well," said Don, picking up the folders and looking through them quickly. "We got something we can do now. First, we've got to find these three women, and then, we can take these files over to Charlie."

Terri nodded, and Don turned back to Brock. "You want to head up your own team Agent Brock?"

XVIIIIV

Kade was sitting in a dark corner of the Cybercafe he had walked into typing away on his computer. No one in the entire building cared what he was doing back there as long as they didn't know, or they at least couldn't get blamed for it. He pulled up a sight on the screen and read the information quickly. Kade pulled his cellphone out of his bag and flipped up the screen which illuminated the dark corner. He looked at the number he had pulled up on the screen once again and punched it into the phone. Three rings later, the phone was answered. "Los Angeles FBI."

Kade smiled. "I have some information about Kade Hackett; I was wondering if you could put me in touch with the agent in charge of that case."

"One moment please."

Kade waited through the static on the other end of the phone tapping the keyboard of his computer impatiently until the other end of the phone was picked up again.

"That agent would be Don Eppes; would you like me to put you in touch with him."

"That would be great," muttered Kade as he quickly sat up and began to type vigorously into the computer.

"Just one moment please." Kade shook his head and punched the end button on the phone before flipping it shut. The Cybercafe wouldn't be safe for too much longer, but that was okay. A few more minutes, and the new changes to his plan would be complete. The only bit of closure him and his family were ever going to receive could commence once again.

XVIIIIV

Thanks for reading, and I promise that next chapter is going to be exciting. I promise. Girl scouts's honor. (I was one for about five years.)


	14. Chapter XIV

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: Sorry it took so long, but I've been busy at work and helping my friend plan her murder mystery party. Thanx to my beta Dre. Any leftover mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy.

**Blood Relatives **

Chapter Fourteen

_"The other day I got out my can opener and was opening a can of worms when I thought, 'What am I doing!'" Jack Handy_

David was headed back to Charlie's office after the search of Kade's room while Agent Benton went back to the office to report on what they had found. It had been both fruitless and depressing at the same time. A stack of newspaper articles about the murders was the only real evidence against Kade they had found, but a lack of weapons was something they needed to be worried about. That meant Kade kept his weapons somewhere else or he had the weapons with him.

David walked up to the door of Charlie's office and saw basically the same scene from a couple days before with only a few changes. Larry and Charlie still seemed to be completely surrounded by a sea of manilla folders, but now, the chalk boards were covered in writing, and Charlie was hurriedly adding more to it.

David opened the door and walked in startling Larry who was sitting at the desk, but Charlie was too busy working to notice.

"Have you guys made any progress?" asked David, sitting down into the only chair that didn't have any folders in it.

Charlie turned around and ran a hand through his hair leaving a bit of chalk dust behind. "I think." He took a deep breath. "I need a bit more data, but I think I can give you a good idea of who might be next."

"How?" asked David, leaning back in his chair.

"By who fits the criteria of the other victims best." Charlie saw the confused look on David's face and tried to explain. "Think of the criteria for how he is choosing his victims like one of those fill in the blank sentences you used to have to do during school. Now, if the word missing is a verb, then a noun isn't going to make sense, so you only look at words in the bank that are verbs."

"So all the family members we gave you are like the words in the bank?" said David, starting to get what he was talking about.

"Yes," replied Larry, jumping in, "but we're going a little farther than that into our analysis."

"Exactly," said Charlie. "Like, if the word that is supposed to complete the sentence is reading, then a word like jumping wouldn't make much sense at all."

"So you're kinda figuring out why the other people don't make sense?" said David.

"In a way," replied Charlie. "The example's kinda of vague, and it's not exactly the kind of answer I might be able to give you. It won't really be an exact answer at all, more like percentages for each person, their chance of being the next victim."

Charlie set the chalk down on the edge of the board and sat down at his desk. "What are you doing here anyway? You wouldn't by chance have the names of the grandmothers?"

"Nope," replied David. "We had a warrant to search Kade Hackett's dorm room."

"Did you find anything?" asked Larry; he, like Charlie, was still shocked by the fact a student at their school was most likely the killer of five different people, but the evidence against Kade was a bit too much to ignore.

"Yes and no," replied David. "We found a stack of newspaper clippings about some of the killings, but we didn't find any other real evidence. The problem is we didn't find any weapons either, so he might be keeping them somewhere else, or he has them with him. Both would be a big problem."

"Could a lack of weapons mean that he isn't the killer?" asked Larry, lacing his fingers together. "Maybe he had the articles for a different reason."

"If he was innocent, why did he run from Don and Terri and attack them?" David retorted. They were so busy talking, they didn't notice the confused look on Charlie's face when David mentioned the attack.

"What are you talking about, David?" asked Charlie.

David turned toward him. "Don't worry, Charlie. They're both fine; you saw them yesterday. Kade swung his backpack at them to get away. I thought I heard Don tell you yesterday."

Charlie nodded as he vaguely recalled the conversation with his brother. "Yeah, I remember now."

David's cellphone started ringing. "Hold on," said David as he got up and exited the room to answer it.

"I don't believe this, Charles," said Larry, shaking his head.

"Larry, I don't want to believe that one of my students could have killed all those people either, but there is a lot of evidence."

"Yes," said Larry with a nod, "but do you think he is guilty?"

Charlie didn't answer right away; he got out of his chair and began to work on the board again.

"Charles?"

"Yes," Charlie finally said. "I'm working this problem as if he was guilty. So yes, I think he is."

XVIIIIV

"Agent Eppes?" said a young woman, rushing up to him in the bullpen carrying a small piece of paper. "I got a bizarre call for you earlier."

"Who was it from?" asked Don, turning toward her.

"That's the problem," replied the woman. "I don't know. They called saying they had information on the Hackett case and wanted to speak with the agent in charge, but when I went to connect them, they hung up."

"Are you sure they hung up? Maybe the call got disconnected."

"No," said the woman. "They never called back, and my phone was still connected."

"What did they want?"

"They asked to speak with the agent in charge of the Hackett case; I told him it was you and that I was going to put him in touch with you, and they hung up."

"Was it a man or a woman?"

"Man," she replied.

"Did you happen to get a number for them?"

"Yeah." She handed the piece of paper to him. "It's a cellphone."

Don read the number on the sheet of paper, picked up the phone on his desk, and dialed the number in. He waited while it rang a few times, and a second later, it was answered by a very confused sounding man. "Hello?"

"Hello," Don said back to the man. "My name is Agent Don Eppes with the FBI; did you just call the FBI offices from this number?"

"No," replied the man suddenly sounding very nervous. "Some dude just handed me this phone and told me to keep it."

"Where are you right now?" asked Don, grabbing paper off the desk and balancing the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could write down the man's response.

"I'm at the 19th Street cybercafe," answered the man. "It's called BetaRead. What's going on?"

"I'll explain when we get there," replied Don. "Do not go anywhere."

"Alright," said the man.

Don hung up the phone and looked at the paper in his hand again. "Who was it?" asked Terri, studying Don carefully.

"Some guy at a cybercafe," replied Don. "Someone called the FBI from that number, but the guy on the phone says it wasn't him. We're going to go talk to him." He looked toward Agent Brock. "You're in charge of finding those three women."

"I've got it," she replied; her tone may have sounded impatient and annoyed, but Don could tell that she was happy to be in charge of something.

Don and Terri grabbed a few things and left the office for the cybercafe.

XVIIIIV

BetaRead was a rundown looking place on the outside and an even smaller, rundown place on the inside. There were about eight tables all together, but only about four of them had a computer on them. A few customers sat at the tables, and they paid very little attention to the two federal agents who had just entered.

Don and Terri looked over to the counter to see a very nervous looking man watching them carefully. They walked over to him and noticed he was fiddling nervously with a cellphone.

"Are you the fed that just called?" asked the man in a near whisper as he leaned forward; he looked around uneasily at the few customers in the café.

Don nodded, and he and Terri both showed the man their badges. "Oh man," said the guy shaking his head a few times. "I have no idea what's going on. I swear."

"Calm down," said Don. "I want to ask you a few questions. Did you call the FBI from this phone?" Don picked it up to illustrate his point.

"No." The man shook his head several times.

"Is this your phone?"

"No. I was working, and some guy came in and payed to use an Internet connection. I didn't really pay any attention to him until he was leaving. He shoved that phone at me and told me to keep it; five minutes later you guys call me."

"What did this guy look like?"

"Uh...blonde hair, green eyes, maybe a bit taller than me."

Terri looked around at the few people in the café. "Do you mind if I talk to your other customers?"

The man looked at her. "No. Not at all, but the only people who were here when he was are the two sitting at the table in the middle."

Terri nodded and went to speak with them while Don stayed to talk to the man.

"Did he do anything odd while he was here?" asked Don.

"Not that I noticed, but like I said, I didn't really pay any attention to him until he gave me his phone."

"What computer in here was he using?"

"He brought in his own laptop; he just payed for a connection."

Don nodded. "What's your name?"

"Andy Jason."

"Alright, Andy. Thank you for your help. If you can think of anything else, please contact me." Andy nodded and continued to nervously fiddle with the cellphone. "Uh...we're gonna need that phone."

Andy nodded and handed the phone over. "Thank you."

"No problem," Andy replied with a shrug.

Don walked away from the counter and over to Terri who was waiting for him by the door.

"You not have any luck either?" asked Don as he pushed open the door, and they both walked out.

"Nope," replied Terri. "The two people didn't even notice him back there." She paused. "Was it Kade?"

"Yep," replied Don. "The guy up there gave me his description; it matched perfect."

"So now what are we supposed to do?"

"We're going to go back to the office and give this phone to tech support. They're going to call all the numbers he's called in the past three days."

Terri went through the history on the cellphone. "It shouldn't take them very long. It looks like Kade has only called four people in the last week."

Don sighed. "That figures."

"So after we hand this phone off to tech support, what are we gonna do?"

"We're gonna go drop those files off with Charlie. We'll see what he can do."

XVIIIIV

David's feet were propped up on Charlie's desk as he watched Larry and Charlie hurry about reading and adding more information to the chalkboards. It was both confusing and entertaining in some strange way.

"Did you know Kade Hackett vary well?" asked David.

"No," replied Charlie without even looking away from his work. "I only ever saw him in class. He was quiet, never really spoke up." Charlie paused for a second. "He did come in once or twice to ask questions, but that was about it."

"Did you ever notice who he hung around with?"

Charlie shook his head and shrugged. He was about to turn around and go back to work when Don and Terri walked into his office.

"Hey, Buddy," said Don, casting a strange glance at David who had sat up very quickly when they walked into the room.

"Hey, Don," said Charlie.

"How is everything going here?" asked Don, sitting on the corner of Charlie's desk.

"It's going," muttered Charlie, turning back to the board. "I just can't stop thinking that I'm missing something."

"What do you mean?" asked Terri, studying the chalkboards.

"I've been comparing the victims to the members of Kade's family and to the people who weren't killed," explained Charlie, "but it just isn't making sense yet."

"Maybe it's more than just the people themselves," suggested Terri.

"What do you mean?" asked Charlie; Larry had stopped working and was now listening to Terri speak.

"Maybe it's more than just the people, but more to where the people are," suggested Terri.

"You mean where the people live?"

"No," said Terri, shaking his head. "Maybe not where they are exactly; maybe it's where they are in relation to somewhere else."

Charlie nodded. "But where?"

"His house," replied Terri; Don looked up at her as she started to explain. "The way Laura Paige went on about how much Kade loved his old house made me think that he might be using it in his revenge somehow. If you could see that house, the condition it got to makes me think Kade is very angry about it."

Terri continued to explain to Larry and Charlie as Don went over to talk to David. "What did you find in Kade's room?"

"Not much," replied David. "We found a stack of articles about the murders, but nothin' else really. His computer was gone, and they're weren't any weapons in his room."

"Nothing?"

David shook his head. "He either keeps the weapons somewhere else or he has the weapons with him."

"Shit," muttered Don. "What about people he hung out with?"

David laughed bitterly. "What other people? When Kade wasn't in his dorm or in class, he was a ghost. Even his roommate can only think of two times he ever saw him outside their room."

"Great," muttered Don; he turned around and saw Charlie and Larry leaning over a map with Terri looking over both their shoulders.

"Do you have the names of the grandmothers yet?" asked Charlie, looking up from the map.

"Yeah." Don handed Charlie a stack of manilla folders. "Got them right here."

Charlie quickly opened the files and began to read through it; Larry was reading over his shoulder. Don set his hand on Terri's shoulder and pulled her off to the side while Larry and Charlie continued reading the files and discussing it.

"What do you need?" asked Terri.

"You and David can go ahead and go back to the office; see if you can help Agent Brock find those women."

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna give Charlie a lift home and then head back to the office."

Terri nodded and went to tell David as Dan walked back over to Charlie and Larry who had stopped discussing the files. Larry looked as if he were done discussing everything.

"I'm sorry, Charles, but I can no longer apply my mind to this problem tonight." He set the folder on the desk. "I'm tired. Besides, I still have a few finals to grade and a few grades to turn in."

Charlie nodded. "That's okay, Larry. Thanks for you help."

Larry nodded as he picked up his bag. "Have you made a dent in any of your finals?"

"Yeah," replied Charlie. "I have most of them graded; besides, Amita has been helping me grade."

Larry laughed. "Poor girl. I bet she didn't know she'd be grading nearly all your finals at the beginning of this semester."

Charlie glared at him. "Good-night, Larry."

"Alright, alright. I get it. I'll see you tomorrow, Charles." He turned to leave. "Good-bye, Don."

Don waved and watched Larry walk out followed a few minutes later by David and Terri; she was giving David a lift back to the office.

"When are you gonna leave, Charlie?"

Charlie looked up at Don and shrugged. "It's a little early to leave, Don; it's only eight thirty."

"Charlie, I told you earlier that I was gonna give you a ride home tonight. I still have to go back to the office. Can't you work on some of this stuff at home?"

"Don, I have my bike here; I can ride it home."

Don shook his head; he was tired and didn't want to deal with this right now. "Charlie, please. Can I just give you a ride home?"

Charlie stared at his brother about to argue, but the tired look on his brother's voice and the annoyance he had heard in Don's voice stopped him. "Okay," said Charlie throwing his hands up in defeat. "Just give me a few minutes to get some of my stuff together."

Don nodded. "Thanks, Charlie."

XVIIIIV

Kade Hackett was walking quickly down the sidewalk trying his best to stay out of the streetlights. He knew Patricia Hutter lived in an apartment somewhere around the area, but he needed to find her quickly. Her picture was burned into his brain so much that she could recognize that woman even if she had a mask on.

His bag was staring to weigh him down, and he needed to rest before too long but not until he found her. His prayers were answered a moment later when he saw Patricia Hutter walking straight toward him. He smiled as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder and walked up to the woman.

"Pardon me," he said politely as he tapped the woman on the shoulder.

Patricia jerked back startled but then returned his politeness with a smile and asked, "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me what time it is," replied Kade pointing to the watch on her wrist. He hoped she wouldn't notice he was wearing a watch of his own.

"Oh. Certainly." She adjusted the purse on her arm, and while she was distracted, Kade pulled the knife from where he had been hiding it in the back of his jeans. Before the woman could even look at his watch, Kade shoved the knife into her chest. Patricia attempted to let out a strangled cry for help, but Kade quickly silenced it with another quick thrust.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing!" demanded a hysterical voice from behind him. He was quickly jerked around by a hand on his shoulder, and the knife came sliding out with the turn. Kade reacted quickly and shoved the knife into his attackers stomach three times before the man could so much as blink. The knife came sliding out smoothly, and Kade watched as the man, who seemed to be about his own age, went falling to the ground.

A quickly glance over his shoulder told Kade that there was no one else around, and he rolled the man onto his stomach and pulled the wallet out of the man's back pocket before running off into the cover of a close alleyway.

XVIIIIV

Well, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I know it was short, but I should have the next one up in a few days. I hope to get to chapter seventeen by the end of the summer if that gives you an idea of anything. Thanx for reading! PLEASE REVIEW!


	15. Chapter XV

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note:I hope you enjoy. Thanks to my beta Dre once again.

**Blood Relatives **

Chapter Fifteen

_"In the long run we are all dead." John Maynard Kaynes _

A few minutes turned into twenty, and it was nine o' clock before Don and Charlie finally left the office. They had been driving for five minutes when Don's cellphone rang, and he got into a rather long conversation with Agent Brock.

"Alright," said Don into the receiver of the cellphone. "I understand. I'll be there soon. Thank you, Agent Brock." He flipped the cellphone shut and set it in the cupholder of his vehicle. Out of the corner of his eye, Don noticed Charlie staring at him. "Agent Brock found two of the grandmothers; they're being placed in protective custody until we've caught Kade. They can't find Patricia Hutter. According to her grandson, Brent Irving, she doesn't have a cellphone or any other way to contact her when she's not at work or home."

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna drop you off at home, and then I'm gonna go back to the office and try and find this last woman."

Charlie opened his mouth to ask another question, but the ringing of his brother's cellphone cut him off. "Hold on one second, Buddy," said Don, grabbing the phone and answering it. "Eppes."

"Agent Eppes," said the caller on the other end; the voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it for the life of him. "This is Det. Tina Kraus."

"Oh," said Don, nodding as the voice clicked. "What can I do for you?"

"An agent sent the pictures and names of three elderly woman to all the police stations in the area."

"Yes?"

"We found one."

Don sat up as straight as he could. "Who?"

"Patricia Hutter."

"Where is she?"

"In between an alley and a convenience store," replied Tina, "next to a man who is being treated by paramedics for three stab wounds."

"Is she alive?"

"No," replied Tina solemnly. "I'm not so sure the man is going to make it either. If you hurry, you might be able to make it before they load him up and take him to the hospital."

"Where are you?"

"Corner of Fourth and Fremont," replied Tina. "You'd best hurry, Agent Eppes."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Don hung up the phone and tossed it back into the cupholder as he hung a quick right, pissing off a few of the drivers behind him.

Charlie looked over at his brother saw both anger and desperation in his eyes. "Where the hell are we going, Don?" asked Charlie, grabbing onto the armrest for dear life.

"The corner of Fourth and Fremont. They found one of the women."

"What about me?"

"We've got a witness to the crime," replied Don. "Apparently, he was injured pretty badly, and if I want to have any hope of questioning him at all, I have to be there now."

"But what am I supposed to do? Do you want me to look around the crime scene."

"NO!" Charlie stared at his brother startled by his outburst. "I just want you to stay in the car."

"Don, I could get some infor--"

"Just stay in the car." Charlie stared at his brother for a long moment. Don's knuckles were white from holding onto the steering wheel, and his turning movements were jerky as he navigated the dark city streets. Charlie was barely able to catch a glance at the speedometer and saw that they were going a good ten miles over the speed limit.

"Fine," Charlie said, not wanting his brother's stress to tip over the edge. "I'll stay in the car."

Don let out a sigh of relief as they came up upon the crime that was littered with ambulances and cop cars both with lights flashing. "Thank you." He parked his SUV as close as he could and got out, casting one last glance back at Charlie.

As he walked up, he saw the ambulance doors close, and the vehicle pull away with lights flashing and siren screaming. "You're a little late, Agent Eppes," said Tina Kraus's voice from behind him. He whipped around and saw the detective standing there with her hands tucked deep into the pocket of her jeans. He could see more freckles on the skin of her shoulders that were exposed thanks to her black tank top.

"I'm actually surprised to see you, Det. Kraus," said Don once he was over the sligh shock of her presence. "I thought you would be taking a break or something."

Tina laughed, and Don winced; the sound was even more hollow than before. "I'm not gonna rest until I see the bastard that killed Paul fry." She took a deep breath. "Patricia Hutter is over here."

Don followed the detective through the crowd of police officers over to where several people from the ME's office were inspecting a body. "Take five, guys," ordered Tina. The people looked up and gathered from a quick look at Don and Tina that they meant business. The three people hurried off, and Tina pulled her hands from her pocket and crouched down to get a closer look at the body of the late Patricia Hutter. "One of the ME's took a wild guess from their first look at her and said that she was alive for maybe thirty seconds after the first stab wound." She recognized the silence from Don as a shocked reaction to the body on the ground and continued. "At least she didn't suffer for too long."

Don shook his head as he stared down at the bloodied body. She appeared to be a well-kept older woman at about seventy years old. Her brownish grey hair had been pulled back into a bun that had fallen out almost all the way. Blood had began to seep onto the sidewalk from two predominant stab wounds of her chest. Don had seen a lot of dead bodies during the course of his job, but this one was hard. This woman was not only a mother but a grandmother. When she left her home that morning, she could never had excepted that by the end of the day she'd be lying dead in front of a twenty-four hour convenience store.

"Was there a note?" asked Don, finally having to look away from the body.

"No," replied Tina, shaking her head. "There wasn't anything."

"Were you able to talk to the witness before they ambulance took him away?"

Tina nodded. "His name is Connor Smith. Before they loaded him up, he told me he just saw this guy start stabbing this woman, and when he tried to stop him, the guy went postal and stabbed him, too. Connor also said the murderer stole his wallet; we've already put out a notice on all his credit cards."

Don nodded. "What are his chances?"

"Slim to none. The paramedics were looking pretty glum when they left."

The ringing of Don's cellphone filled the already noise polluted air, and he quickly answered it. "Eppes."

"Hello, Agent Eppes," said the voice on the other end of the phone; it was cool and arrogant and sent chills down Don's spine. "I bet you've seen my handy work by now."

"Kade Hackett." Don saw the look of shock envelope Tina's face when he said the name.

"Drop the formalities, Agent Eppes, or should I call you Don?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"I figured that you already knew it was me. Why bother with mysterious notes anymore? Why not talk directly to the man who's signed my death warrant?"

"That's not what I mean--"

"I know what you meant, _Don_." He said the name like it gave him power. "I'm done playing around, agent. Good-bye." The phone went dead, and Don stared at it in anger trying his best to resist the urge to smash the phone to bits.

XVIIIIV

Charlie looked at his wrist watch for the fourth time since Don had left the car and let out an exasperated sigh. He wasn't five years old, and he was starting to get pissed at Don for treating him like he was. Fed up with everything, Charlie threw open the car door and walked over the taped off crime scene.

"I'm sorry," said a cop who was guarding the perimeter, "but you can't go out there." Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out the FBI ID card. The cop studied it for a second and then nodded to let him pass. "Sorry, man, but you didn't look like a fed."

"Thanks." Charlie ducked under the tape and walked between the cops and other officials searching for his brother; unfortunately, he found someone else before he found Don. The body of an elderly woman was lying on the ground with blood covering her chest. Her eyes were open in a look of pure terror, and her body was lying at an odd angle. Charlie suddenly found the world spinning around him, and he struggled to keep the lunch he had eaten earlier that day down. Rapid gasping breaths were all he could suddenly manages, and he wanted nothing more in the world than to just sit down, but he wasn't sure where. Charlie could hear someone saying his name, but he ignored them; all he could do was stare into that dead woman's eyes.

XVIIIIV

Don was talking to Tina about the 911 call from the owner of the convenience store when he saw his brother walk over to Patricia's body. "God dammit, Charlie," muttered Don, stepping past Tina abruptly. "I'll be back in a second." Don stormed toward his brother ready to scream at him, but when Charlie stumbled back and looked as if he would pass out, Don ran as quickly as he could shouting his brother's name. "Charlie!"

His brother's breathing was rapid, and his face had gone completely white. "Charlie," said Don, grabbing his brother's arm. "Charlie, sit down okay."

Charlie ignored him and pulled his arm out of Don's grasp. "LET ME GO!"

"Buddy, just sit down for a second. It'll be fine." Don tried to grab hold of Charlie's arm again, but his brother pulled it away from him again.

"No, it won't," muttered Charlie through gasping breaths. "One of my students did this, Don!" He pointed at the body of the woman lying on the ground. "One of the students whom I've taught this whole damn school year did this!"

"You don't know that for sure, Charlie," said Don. He knew it was a lie, but right now, Charlie was having a panic attack, and the truth was not going to calm him down. Don wasn't even sure when Charlie's last panic attack was, maybe back in high school, but Don couldn't say for sure. He thought they were a thing of the past. "Just sit down for a second, Buddy."

"NO!" shouted Charlie. "And you do know it for sure! You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. My student did this!"

By now, everyone standing in the vicinity was staring at Don and Charlie, and Don was hoping that they would either look away or try to help. Suddenly, Charlie grabbed his head with both hands and stumbled toward the curb of the sidewalk. Don grabbed hold of his arm and helped him sit down. "Just take deep breaths, Buddy. That's it."

Charlie started taking deep breaths like his brother said as Don kept a comforting hand on Charlie's shoulder. "It's a panic attack, Charlie. Just keep taking deep breaths."

"I'm fine," Charlie muttered. "I just need a minute." Charlie's breathing slowly returned to normal and the world stopped spinning, and Don helped him back to his feet. "Come on, Buddy," said Don, leading him back over to the car. "Let's get you home."

Charlie and Don stumbled through the crowd of cops and civilians back to the SUV as quickly as they could. "Don't you have to talk to the detective still?" asked Charlie as Don opened the passenger's side door and helped him in. "I'm fine, you know?"

"I'm finished talking with her," replied Don, "and you're not fine. Didn't I ask you to just stay in the car?"

Charlie stared at Don for a moment trying to come up with a decent answer, but before he could respond, Don answered for him. "Nevermind. Let's go home." He shut the passenger side door and walked around to the driver's side and got in.

"Are you mad, Don?"

Don sighed. "What do you think, Charlie?" He reached down to his belt and grabbed the phone as he started the car and pulled away from the curb. Charlie watched Don flip open the phone and hold down one of the numbers before putting it to his ear. With a sigh, Charlie turned away from his brother to stare out the window and half-listened to his brother's end of the conversation.

"Terri, you can stop looking for Patricia Hutter." There was a pause. "You could say that...Maybe an hour...No, there was a witness this time, but I didn't get a chance to speak with him...He was injured; the paramedics had to take him to the hospital...They're not sure...No, no, no. Leave them in protective custody just in case..."

Charlie felt his eyes beginning to droop as he started to only catch fragments of his brother's conversation. It was only a moment or two later before he fell asleep with his head resting on the glass of the window.

XVIIIIV

Charlie felt someone shaking his shoulder and jerked forward in his seat.

"Whoa," he heard Don say as the hand let go. "Calm down, Buddy!" Charlie looked at his brother and saw him sitting in the front seat of the parked SUV. "We're home."

Charlie nodded and opened the door. He grabbed his bag off the floorboard of the car and go out. "Maybe you should try and get some rest, Charlie," suggested Don as they walked toward the house.

"I'm fine, Don," muttered Charlie as he yanked open the front door. "Besides, I have work I've got to do."

Don sighed. "Why don't you just call it a night?"

Charlie paused in the entryway of the house. "Because, Don." He readjusted the bag on his shoulder and walk toward the back of the house.

"Hey, Donnie," said Alan, stepping out of the living room to greet them. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm just dropping Charlie off."

"Oh. Where's Charlie at?"

"I think he went out to work in the garage. Look, Dad, I can't stay long; I have to get back to the office, okay?"

"That's fine, Donnie." He was watching with confusion as Don rubbed the back of his neck for a moment as he stared at the back of the house. "You gonna stop by tomorrow, Donnie?"

"Maybe in the morning." He turned to leave. "I'll see ya, Dad."

"Bye." Alan watched Don walk back out to his car and open the back end. He set Charlie's bike by the side of the house, got back in the car, and drove away. Alan watched until he couldn't see the taillights of Don's SUV before he turned to go out to the garage. This case was bothering both his sons, and based on the way Don was acting, Alan wasn't so sure he wanted to see how Charlie was taking it. It was his fatherly instincts that dragged him out to the garage and made him spy on his youngest.

Charlie was hurrying around the garage pulling books and papers out of his bag and writing on the chalkboards. Alan let out a sigh and shook his head as he walked back toward the house. He, like everyone else, would be so glad when this case was over.

XVIIIIV

"Yes," said Don to the nurse speaking to him on the other end of the phone. "Please give the family my condolences." Don hung up the phone with a frustrated sigh and ran a hand over his face.

"Who was that?" asked Terri who was sitting on the other side of the desk.

"That was a nurse at the hospital where they took Connor Smith; he died about a half hour ago. One of the stab wounds severed an artery causing some sort of shock." Don let his head fall forward to his hand and massaged his forehead with his thumb and pointer finger. "Kade called me."

"What?"

"Kade called me on my cellphone," Don said, sounding almost defeated. "I don't know how the hell he got my number, and I'm not sure knowing will fix it, but he was taunting me. He's not bothering with cryptic notes or anything anymore because he knows we know it's him."

"He's like having this power," said Terri. "He was powerless to stop his family's death so he's replacing that powerlessness with this, but he's getting desperate and sloppy; Connor Smith's death proves that."

"But it's not stopping him." Don sat up straight and then leaned back in his chair to stretch.

"How's Charlie?"

Don snorted. "I asked him to stay in the car when we were at the crime scene."

"You know full well Charlie would never listen to an order like that."

"Yeah, I know. I was just hopin' for a miracle. Well, he didn't stay in the car. He got and started looking around the crime scene, and he found Patricia Hutter." Don laughed although he knew what he was about to say wasn't funny in the least bit. "Then he had a panic attack."

"Oh my God," said Terri, disturbed by both the news and Don's reaction to it. "Is he okay? I didn't even know he got panic attacks."

Don shook his head. "He doesn't, well not normally. I-I mean...I can really only remember two that he had back in high school, and that's it." Don went leaned forward and went back to his original position with his head resting on his hand.

Terri rose from her seat and walked around to put a comforting hand on Don's shoulder. "Are you okay, Don?"

"Just tired." He paused. "Very, very tired."

"Maybe you should head home and get some sleep." The thought of sleep brought an involuntary yawn out of herself.

"Maybe you should, too."

"I will if you will." Don just lifted his head and stared at her for a moment. "Come on. There's nothing else we can do here tonight."

Don sighed loudly, but stood up from his desk. "Fine," he said as he gave in. "Let's go." He put his arm in front of him to indicate her first, and she laughed a little as she walked ahead of him.

"We're going to catch him, Don," she said as they both got on the elevator. "You know that."

Don didn't say anything at first, and Terri was praying that she hadn't ruined the little bit of a relaxed mood Don had been in. As the elevator doors shut, Don finally spoke. "I know. I just hope it's soon."

XVIIIIV

Charlie sat at the desk in his room writing furiously in the notebook he had pulled out of the top drawer. After five hours of working in the garage on the chalkboards, his father had finally convinced him go try get some sleep. Well, actually, his father had hovered over him until Charlie couldn't stand it anymore and went inside, but what he didn't know was that Charlie was now working with the files and what he could remember writing down on the boards.

As cliched as it sounded, this case had suddenly become very personal for Charlie. It hadn't actually hit him that one of his own students was a killer until he saw the body of Patricia Hutter lying blood-soaked on the sidewalk.

Charlie stopped writing suddenly and stared down at his worked. He quickly dug through the files sitting on his desk and pulled out the one he was looking for. He compared the work with the file several times and then to the map he had brought in before deciding for sure he was right and grabbing the phone off the desk. He dialed Don's cellphone, but when he got his brother's voicemail, Charlie angrily punched the end button and dialed Don's apartment. After the fourth ring, the answering machine picked up, and Charlie hung up the phone feeling the need to throw it across the room. He gathered his work and the files up and shoved the them back into his bag and hurried out of his room.

He didn't bother trying to be quiet as he ran down the stairs and out to where Don had put his bike before he had left that night. Charlie had to get to Don's apartment as soon as he could, and he took off on his bike down the dark streets of his neighborhood.

XVIIIIV

Don didn't know who was knocking on his door at three thirty in the morning, but he was pretty sure he was going to deck whoever it was. It had been the only decent amount of sleep he had gotten since that case had began, and he was not happy with whoever had decided to disturb it.

"I'm coming!" shouted Don as the knocking grew more persistent. He grabbed the doorknob and threw open the door ready to chew out or hit the person on the other side. Anger turned to worry when he saw who was on the other side. "What the hell are you doing here, Charlie?" demanded Don. "Is everything alright?"

Charlie stood in the hallway outside his door breathing heavily and carrying a backpack over his shoulder. "I figured it out," said Charlie rather loudly.

"What!" asked Don. "What are you talking about!"

"It is three thirty in the morning," said the woman living across the hall from Don as her door swung open. Charlie and Don stared at her as she adjusted her robe and glared at them. "Go to bed."

Don sighed and grabbed Charlie's arm, pulling him into the apartment. He apologized to his neighbor as he shut the door and then turned back to his brother who was pulling things out of his backpack. "Charlie, what is so important that it could not wait till morning? You know, the normal functioning time for people."

"I figured it out," Charlie repeated, handing Don a file with the name Aaron fields at the top.

"Figured what out, Charlie?" Don tossed the file onto his kitchen table and stared at his brother.

"I figured out Kade's pattern. I know who's gonna be next."

"That's great, Charlie. What is it?"

"Okay," said Charlie, pulling more things out of his bag. "Well, first, I thought Kade was just choosing people based on their ages, but that didn't make any sense; it was more precise than that. So I dug deeper. Kade is choosing people who were the same distance in age from their family member in the FBI as his family members were from him."

"So, his sister was eight, he was fifteen, so whoever he killed had to be seven years younger than their brother or sister in the FBI."

"Yes, but if their wasn't a perfect match, he had to go for the closest. Kade gets more precise than that though."

"What do you mean?"

"There were two people who didn't fit that, but when Terri suggested that thing about Kade's house, it got me thinking, so I put that into the problem. Say a person fits perfect into the pattern and another is off by a year, he compares where they live in relation to his old home along with their ages and kinda averages them out. Whoever is better suited in the end is the one he kills regardless if they are the same amount of years or not. I've got it on the map." He got out the map from before and pointed to several marked locations on the map. They had equations off to the side, but Don didn't even want to try and figure out what they meant.

Don rubbed his forehead trying to process all the information. "I think I get it. You said you know who's next?"

Charlie nodded and grabbed the file Don had thrown onto the counter. "Elizabeth Fields is the youngest sister and sibling of Aaron Fields. She is ten years younger than her brother, and no other person even comes close to her percent chance of being next."

Don took the file and opened it. "You're sure?" asked Don, staring at the information on Elizabeth.

Charlie looked his brother straight in the eye and saw how desperate he truly looked. "Positive," replied Charlie with a nod..

XVIIIIV

I hope you enjoy. The next chapter will be up in a few days. I promise.


	16. Chapter XVI

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: This chapter does not have a single Numb3rs character in it. Unfortunately, this chapter is needed. I have two notes though: it will be the only chapter of its kind and the character will not be a Mary-Sue. Thanks to my beta Dre. Please enjoy.

**Blood Relatives **

Chapter Sixteen

_"I know what I must do, it's just...I'm afraid to do it."_

Libby fields woke up to the annoying buzzing of her alarm clock and pulled the pillow over her head. "Who the hell set my alarm clock for eight? "she muttered as she closed her eyes.

"I did," replied her father, Will, as he walked into her room. "I thought it was time you started getting up at a decent hour, and I thought you should start looking for a job soon. Your last doctor visit had a good prognosis."

Libby pulled the pillow off her head and stared at her father. His pale red hair, that was a perfect match for her own, hung down in front of his eyes, and he was giving her a crooked smile. "You're really quite mean."

"And you're really lazy for nineteen," replied Will, walking over and turning off the alarm clock. "I've got breakfast on the table downstairs."

"I'm not lazy!" Libby shouted as her father walked out of the room, "and I have a job." Will stuck his head back into the room and watched as she snuggled back into her pillows, welcoming the silence from the alarm clock. "I'm a struggling musician."

Will smirked. "Too bad it doesn't pay well." He sat down on the edge of his daughter's bed. "You know you're welcome to stay here as long as you need too." Libby stared at him through the slit of her eyes. "But I know you want to get your life back together. It can't be easy when you live with your parents."

"I know, Dad." She rolled over and rested her chin on her pillow. "I have band practice today."

Will stared at Libby and set a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You sure have been practicing a lot lately."

She let out a long sigh; it was going to be hard to tell her father the news. "We have a gig tonight at Neo Rocco's, eight o' clock." Libby pulled the pillow over her head anticipating the scream from her father. When it didn't come, Libby dared a look out and saw a dark look on her father's face.

"No," said Will, shaking his head furiously. "No damn way."

"Dad, you just said you wanted me to get my life back together, and now, you don't want me to perform a gig."

"Not a gig at that place! Not where you overdosed!"

Libby rolled her eyes, but understood completely what her father was driving at. "I know, Dad, but I have to do this. I have to see if I'm strong enough to live my normal life again, or will I have to live with my parents for the rest of my life because otherwise, I'll do drugs."

"Don't take that tone with me!" ordered Will angrily. "You know very well I want you to have your normal life again, but you also know very well where my fears come from. Give it more time. It's only been six months. You're progressing well, far better than to be expected. Don't risk it."

"I need to," said Libby. "I have you and mom on speed dial, and Kevin will convince me otherwise if I try." Kevin was a guy she had become close to in rehab; they promised that if they ever felt the urge to do drugs again, a quick call to the other would fix that problem. "I have to do this, Dad."

"Give it more time," said Will, shaking his head. "I can't lose you again. Don't give up everything you've worked for because you're pretty sure you can do this."

"The guys have only had mediocre gigs since it happened," said Libby. Will just stood up off the bed and headed to the door of the room. "This is a good gig. They need me, or I'm out of the band." She was trying to get her father to see her side.

"Better out of the band than dead," said Will as he walked out. "Breakfast is on the table."

Libby rolled back over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She hadn't had much of an appetite since she had gotten out of the hospital; all food seemed rather unappealing. She ate mostly for her parents' sake. She didn't need them worrying she had an eating disorder when it as just the fact food didn't look good

Libby crawled out of the bed and collapsed into the chair on the other side of the room. Her new acoustic guitar, she had sold her old one to a pawn shop to get drug money which only lasted a day, was sitting in its stand next to her. She pulled the guitar out of its stand and set it in her lap. Her brother had bought it for her after she had gotten out of rehab. It took a bit of time to learn, but the notes had quickly come back to her. Her fingers slid up and down the neck playing chords unconsciously creating a song all her own. Guitar was her escape; it always had been, and she was escaping with it more and more lately.

Libby knew the guitar had been a guilt present, just like the necklace her older sister, Reagan, had given her, but it was nice to have a guitar again. She had to laugh at herself sometimes. The youngest of three children, and she was the biggest screw up. Her older sister was a lawyer, and her brother, Aaron, the oldest of all three kids, was an FBI agent. She was just

a struggling musician recovering from an addiction.

Libby ended the song letting its last note resonate through the small bedroom. She, however, could not remember a single note she had just played. With a sigh, Libby put the guitar back on the stand and stood up from the chair. Her parents were going to get worried if she didn't come down for breakfast soon.

XVIIIIV

She didn't like the electric guitar she held in her hands, but she didn't have much of a choice. The gig would not allow the lead to be played on acoustic guitar, and she wasn't one hundred percent sure what happened to her own guitar. It had disappeared that night six months ago after she had been rushed to the hospital. She had a terrible feeling that one of the band

members in the group who went on instead of them had taken it.

Her hands flew up and down the neck remembering the notes for the song perfectly while her mind remembered the words. She could sing and play the guitar while her mind wandered to other subjects. Today, her mind was concentrating on the fact that in a few hours, she would be standing in front of a bar singing and playing again. It was a great feeling.

The last chord of the song rang out, and Libby let go of the guitar.

"That was awesome," said Gregory Bank, the bass player in the group. "We are gonna rock tonight!" He turned toward her. "You need a ride tonight?"

Libby shook her head. "I'm driving myself." She wanted to make sure she could leave the second anything went wrong, the second she felt she was tempted. Her parents were already pissed at her for risking this gig, this was the least she could do for them.

Libby left Gregory's house, they held practice in his garage, and walked back over to her car. She was lucky she had never lost her license. Her mind had finally drifted from the aspect of singing and playing the gig to what she was going to do afterwards. She should just leave, don't risk the temptation. She knew there would be drugs there. Hell, that was where she overdosed, but she was pretty sure she could resist them. Her problem would be the transition addictions.

She had never been a heavy drinker, but she did do it socially, at least she used to. Cigarettes had been another big obstacle. The doctor had told her she would have to give up smoking if she wanted to recover completely, but she always had one in her pocket as a bit of reassurance. Libby climbed into her car and looked into the rearview mirror. "I can do this," she said to her reflection "I can." She put the car in drive and headed back to her house.

XVIIIIV

"Are you sure about this, Lib?" her mother asked, setting a suitcase by the door.

"Yes, Mom," replied Libby inspecting her reflection in the hallway mirror. Her hair had several layers of hair spray holding it in place for the hour she would be on stage. She turned toward her mother. "I'll be fine, Mom. I've taken all the precautions."

"The ultimate precaution would be not going all together," said her mother, crossing her arms.

Libby sighed as she turned back toward her mother. "I have to do this, Mom. Please understand that."

Her mother sighed as Libby had. She picked up the suitcase. "I'll see you next week. I'll tell your sister you said hi."

"Reagan's lucky you know," said Libby trying to keep the conversation going. "It's at least twenty degrees cooler in Maine right now."

Her mother let a small grin slip onto her face. She set the suitcase on the floor again and hugged Libby tightly. "I love you, Lib," she whispered. "Remember that. Don't do anything you're not sure of."

"I won't, Mom. I love you."

Her mother let go of her. "I'll see you next week."

Libby nodded and watched her mother pick up the suitcase again.

"Bye, Mom," said Libby, giving her mother a half-hearted wave. Her mother returned the sad wave as she walked out the front door. Her father was waiting outside in the car to give her mother a ride to the airport.

Libby let her eyes linger on the closed door for a moment before turning back to her reflection in the mirror.

"I'm ready," Libby said to herself, not just meaning she looked okay to perform. "I think." With a sigh, Libby turned away from the mirror, grabbing her purse as she did so, and walked out the front door.

XVIIIIV

Libby pulled around to the back of Neo Rocco's hoping to see the rest of the band unloading their stuff. Gregory had the guitar she was supposed to be using that night. Libby parked her car and climbed out. Double-checking to make sure the car was locked, Libby turned back to the band entrance of the bar. Up until this moment in time, she had never really remembered much about that night. She could remember getting ready for the show that night and then getting a ride from Gregory to the bar, but after that everything was a blank. She guessed,

at one point, she must have shot up, probably in the bathroom because, supposedly, that's where she had gone before she went back to the stage. After that, she had collapsed.

Even though she couldn't remember what happened; Libby could remember how she felt. She knew at one point, she had been terribly edgy and nervous, and then calm. After that, all Libby could remember was fear, but in the moment she looked at the back entrance, all those fears came back to her. Libby stumbled back taking several deep breaths.

"I can't do this," Libby muttered as she backed up to her car. "I can't." She turned around quickly and pulled out her keys.

"Where are you going, Libby!" she heard Gregory shout as she wrenched open the car door.

"I can't do this!" shouted Libby back as she jumped into the front seat. She threw her purse into the passenger seat and pulled away from the bar leaving a stunned Gregory behind.

XVIIIIV

Libby parked her car alongside the street and got out of the car. She began running down the street, which was hard since she was wearing heals, and rounded a familiar corner. All of the emotions from the car had brought back a familiar need, and she had to get there before the need consumed her completely. Like the guitar, this was her escape, and she needed it now more than ever. She stopped and stared. She let her breathing return to normal as she watched several people walk away. Libby smiled as she walked up the four stone steps into the large cinder-block building. Libby pushed through the doors of the building and relished the familiar comforting feeling of being there.

"Libby!" said a deep, friendly voice. She turned around to see Norman Williams standing there in his familiar festive sweater and green windbreaker.

"Hi, Norman," said Libby, giving him a sad smile. "You know you are the only man in L.A. who still wears a sweater and a jacket when there has been a two week heat wave."

"It's air-conditioned in the church, Libby," said Norman with a laugh. "Not that is isn't great to see you here, we always need our killer soprano, but you called earlier to say you weren't going to be here at practice tonight."

Libby shrugged her shoulders. "I changed my mind."

Norman studied her appearance carefully. "Right. So, were you on a date gone wrong or something?"

Libby laughed. Norman had always seemed to her as the fatherly type, which wasn't surprising since he had five kids, and had taken Libby under his wing since they had met. "What makes you say that?"

"Let's see," said Norman, stepping back and rubbing his chin. "Short skirt, low cut tank top, and high heels. I don't think you got all dressed up to come here."

"You got me," said Libby, throwing her hands up in the air. "I was at a gig."

"A gig?" said Norman. "And it got over at seven. Those are my kind of party animals."

Libby laughed as she leaned against the wall. "I didn't go. I almost did, but I couldn't. I was at Neo Rocco's." Norman nodded in understanding. "I thought I was ready; I thought I could do it, but when I got there, I freaked. Norman, I spent all day trying to convince myself I could do it, got my band psyched, and then freaked out and left." She covered her face, not wanting Norman to see she was almost in tears. "I'm not cured. I know if given the chance, I'll still do them. I'd do them in heartbeat."

Norman walked over to the girl and set his arm around her shoulders. "I don't think I'll ever be cured," Libby continued sorrowfully.

"And that's okay, Libby," said Norman, "because you know that now, and you can help yourself. Your family can help, and so can we. You're not alone."

Libby calmed back down, and Norman let go of her. "You okay, Kiddo?" asked Norman, ruffling up her red hair.

"Yeah, Norman," replied Libby, fixing her hair. "Thanks, but please don't do that. I'm nineteen, not nine."

Norman nodded and shrugged off his jacket. "You might want to put this on. Ladonia's son Jacob is out there, and I don't think that is exactly the outfit you want to wear in front of a nine-year-old boy."

Libby looked down at her clothes and smiled sheepishly. She took the coat from Norman and pulled it on even though it was at least four sizes too big.

She quickly took off her heels and walked into the chapel. "Shoes were hurting my feet," muttered Libby.

"I think three inch heels would," retorted Norman.

Libby knew she probably looked bizarre to the other members of the choir: a skirt which barely showed out the bottom of the windbreaker, her make-up had smeared, and bare feet, but she didn't really care. There were only four other members to the group if you counted Norman, who was their tenor.

Ladonia Andrews, another soprano, was a young woman in her late twenties

with two children already and a third on the way. She could generally see the good in people, and when Libby came to join the choir, a suggestion by the psychiatrist at rehab, Ladonia had welcomed her with open arms.

Gail Streep was nice and an awesome alto, but a little hard to understand. She was a lawyer at a good firm, but she seemed to have joined the choir for some other reason than God or singing. It was almost as if she was paying a debt to someone by being here, and Libby never failed to notice how she never seemed to really enjoy herself.

The last member was Eric Pembroke, their tenor. He was in his late sixties and treated all the choir members like his own grandchildren. He was kind and loved to joke around, but Libby could always feel the sadness around him since his wife had died nine months before.

Libby took her spot between Ladonia and Gail and smiled. "Church choir," she thought sardonically, "my anti-drug."

XVIIIIV

The practice lasted an hour and a half, and by the end, Libby's voice was near hoarse, but she was all smiles.

"We'll see you next week, Libby," said Norman as he watched her put her shoes back on.

"Alright," said Libby. She was about to take off his jacket and give it back, but Norman stopped her.

"Take it with you," said Norman with a smile, ruffling her hair again. "Bye, Sweetheart."

Libby laughed and walked out of the church. She was headed down the sidewalk back to her car humming "Just a Closer Walk with Thee" when someone stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

"Elizabeth Fields?" questioned a tall man who studied her carefully.

Libby stared up at him petrified and nodded blankly. He took a step toward her, and Libby threw her hands up and stepped back. "I don't have any money."

XVIIIIV

I hope enjoyed, and once again, this will be the only chapter of it's kind. Please review.


	17. Chapter XVII

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: I'm sorry if this chapter is a little on the boring side; one of those fun ones where everything needs to be set up. I'm sorry if my original character seems a little Mary-Sue; that will be remedied soon. Please review!

**Blood Relatives **

Chapter Seventeen

_"I'm not afraid to die; I just don't want to be there when it happens." Woody Allen_

It had taken all day to find Elizabeth Fields, but they had finally tracked her down not far from a church thanks to help from her father. Elizabeth was now sitting in he conference room with an untouched cup of coffee in front of her; she had barely spoken to anyone since they had brought her in. Every time someone would try and speak with her she would just start insisting that she hadn't done anything wrong.

"I managed to get a hold of her father again," said Terri as she walked up to Don. "It took almost five minutes to convince him that she wasn't in any legal trouble. He's going to be here as soon as he can."

"Good," said Don. "I'm going to try and talk to her again. I really don't think she's heard a single thing we've said since we've brought her in." Don popped the knuckles of his right hand as he looked back to the conference room. "Wanna try and help?"

Terri smirked. "Sure." She followed Don into the conference room and watched as the nervous looking girl sat up quickly and turned toward them.

"I haven't done anything wrong!" Elizabeth insisted. "I swear!"

"We know that," said Don, holding his hands up to show the girl they meant no harm. "We have a situation though that involves you."

Elizabeth suddenly turned very pale. "What?"

"Do you read the paper?" asked Don.

"Not really," replied Elizabeth. "An article every now and then but not daily."

Don sighed. "News?"

"I'm normally gone in the evenings. I play in a band; we practice a lot."

"Have you heard about the murders that have been taking place in the city over the past week or so?" Don prayed this girl would have some knowledge of what had been going on.

"My dad was talking about it a little the other day, but I wasn't really paying much attention. There's been four murders or something." She shrugged slightly.

Don wanted to correct her and say that there had been seven murders committed, but he wanted to try and keep her calm. "Or something."

Terri jumped in. "Elizabeth."

"Libby," she corrected.

"Libby," said Terri, "we brought you here because we have reason to think that you may be next?"

Don didn't think that it was possible, but Libby's face turned even paler. "Why would someone want to kill me?"

"Libby, what the hell are you doing here!" Libby suddenly looked past Don and Terri at the person who had just walked into the conference room.

Don and Terri turned around to see Aaron Fields walking quickly across the room to his sister; it was easy to tell they were siblings by their red hair and blue eyes. Don had been so focused on finding Libby before anything could happen to her that he hadn't even bothered to inform Aaron Fields.

"What are you doing here, Aaron?" asked Libby; she looked as if she might pass out.

"I work here!" Aaron shouted angrily. "Imagine my surprise when I walked past the conference room and saw my sister talking to two feds! Now, I repeat, what the hell are you doing here!"

"Aaron Fields," said Don; Libby's older sibling turned toward him.

"What did my sister do?" he demanded angrily. "How much trouble is she in?"

"She didn't do anything," replied Don. "She's not in any trouble legally, but she is in some trouble."

"Someone's gonna kill me," muttered Libby; Aaron turned quickly toward his sister who's face had taken on a green hue.

"What?" said Aaron.

Libby ignored him and shakily pushed herself to her feet. "Where's the restroom?" she asked Terri.

"You go out that door, turn right, and go straight down," replied Terri. "Let me show you." Before Terri could even get up from her own chair, Libby was out the door and running down the hall. Terri followed her as quickly as she could while Don stayed to speak with Aaron.

"What's going on?" asked Aaron dumbstruck by what had just happened.

Don looked at the younger agent; he had only really met him once or twice before. Aaron worked mainly with narcotics. He was a good agent who seemed to play by almost every rule; every agent who worked with him swore to that. It was Aaron Fields' reaction to Libby that confused Don now.

"What's going on?" Aaron repeated when Don didn't respond. "What did Libby do?" He paused momentarily and rubbed a hand over his face. "Please tell me that this has nothing to do with drugs."

Don stared at Aaron with a perplexed look on his face. "This has nothing to do with drugs. What are you talking about?"

Aaron stared at Don with almost the same look. "Perhaps you had better explain why she's here first."

Don sighed, knowing that he was going to have to go first. "You might what to sit down."

Aaron's perplexed look changed to disbelief, but he sat down without objection. "What's going on, Agent Eppes?"

Don sat also and started to explain. "You know about the murders that have been happening across L.A.: Gary Bolin, Prue Boyd, Allison Lanskey, Brendan Lancaster, and Patricia Hutter."

Aaron nodded. "Everyone has, right down to Lindsey who works the front desk. I even told my family to be particularly careful." He paused. "What does that-- Oh my God! Libby!"

"We have good reason to believe that she may be the next target." Don watched Aaron carefully as his words sank in; Aaron seemed to turned pale, and he ran a hand through his hair.

"Why? What evidence do you have to suspect that?"

Don sighed, knowing how stupid his answer was going to sound. "A formula."

Aaron narrowed his eyes at Don but then nodded his head. "I've heard about that professor that consults for the FBI. He did a case for narcotics once; I think." Aaron closed his eyes for a second. "Isn't he related to you or something?"

"My brother," replied Don. "I know this has to be a shock for you."

"A little. Ever since I was little I wanted to be in the FBI so I could protect people, but I never thought being in the FBI would put my family in danger."

"We're going to put Libby in protective custody until we've caught Kade."

"Kade?"

"Kade Hackett," replied Don. "He was a student at CalSci here in L.A. We've been on his trail for several days now, but we haven't been able to catch him."

"I heard he killed two people last night." Don stared at Aaron. "Agent Eppes, there is not a person in this office who can't tell you just about every detail about that case. Everyone is scared for their families."

Don nodded. "Aaron, if you don't mind me asking, why did you assume that Libby being brought in here had something to do with drugs?"

"This sounds terrible, Agent Eppes, but I've come to expect the worst from my little sister." He saw the surprised look on Don's face. "She started doing drugs when she was fifteen and became addicted to several drugs including heroin; in fact, there probably isn't a drug out there she hasn't tried. She played in a band and played in a lot of clubs and bars and that didn't help her addiction. About eight months ago, she was supposed to be playing in a bar called Neo Rocco's. About five minutes before they were supposed to perform, they found her in the bathroom barely alive; she had overdosed on heroin."

Aaron took a deep breath before he continued with the story; his voice was quieter now. "She was rushed to the hospital and after the emergency room, she was put in the ICU. My parents were sitting with her praying she would be okay when her heart stopped. Doctors rushed in and started defibrillation. They were about to give up, but one determined doctor said one more time, and miraculously, her heart started. Libby was dead for two whole minutes. I'm not sure if you know what that's like, but in case you don't, it's awful. I ran in there when it happened, I watched as they shocked her, I watched her body jerk, and I prayed that I would hear that heart monitor beep. It's a terrible thing."

"I'm very sorry," said Don.

"She went to rehab after she was released from the hospital, and for six months, she's been doing good, but after what I saw, can you blame me for seeing the worst in everything?"

"No," said Don. "I can't?"

"I didn't think you could."

"Aaron!" shouted a new voice in the office. Don and Aaron looked up to see an older looking man being led into the conference room by David. "Aaron, what's going on?"

"Dad? What are you doing here?" asked Aaron, getting up and hurrying over to his father.

"I got a call from some agent earlier asking where Libby was," replied Aaron's father; he was nervously illustrating his story with his hands. "I told them she was supposed to performing at Neo Rocco's." Aaron opened his mouth to say something, but his father stopped him. "I know. They called back saying that the band said she's left, just ran off. I told them she might be at the church." Aaron's father ran a hand nervously through his thinning hair. "They called back again saying that they had found her, and they wanted me to come down here. Aaron, what is going on? Is Libby okay? Is she hurt? Is she in trouble?"

"Perhaps I had better explain, Mr. Fields," said Don, watching as the nervous man turned toward him and studied him carefully.

"Who are you?"

"Special Agent Don Eppes."

"Well, Special Agent Don Eppes, what the hell is going on, and where is my daughter?"

"Mr. Fields--"

Aaron's father held up his hand to stop him as he shook his head. "Please, call me Will. Everyone does."

"Okay, Will. You might want to sit down while I explain what's going on."

"I'd prefer to stand," said Will, crossing his arms and staring Don right in the eyes.

"Dad," said Aaron, putting a hand on his father's shoulders, "you might want to sit down."

Will refused to move and waited for Don to speak. Don sighed in frustration and gave the same explanation he had given to Aaron to his father. By the end of the explanation, Will had uncrossed his arms and all but collapsed into a chair.

"Someone wants to kill my little girl?" said Will, resting his head tiredly in his hand.

"We have good reason to believe that," replied Don.

"Based on some math problem." Don nodded. "I don't see how math can tell you who this man wants to kill."

Don scoffed. "Don't ever say that in front of my brother, or he'll spend an hour explaining it to you." Don saw the look on Will's face and realized that he didn't get it. "I'm sorry. That's a bit of a long story."

"Agent Eppes, what are you going to do to protect my daughter?"

"We're going to have an agent with her at all times, and we're going to put her in protective custody until we've caught Kade."

Will nodded. "Can I see Libby now?"

"Sure," replied Don. "I believe she went to the restroom."

Will got out of the chair and excited the conference room followed closely by Don and Aaron. Terri was headed toward them with her arms around the shoulders of a very pale and shaky Libby Fields. The young woman looked up to see father standing next to her brother and pulled herself away from Terri to run up and throw her arms around her father's neck.

"Are you okay, Libby?" asked Will as he held his shaking daughter; she nodded into his shoulder, but didn't let go.

Don and Terri both left to give the family a bit of privacy, but Don couldn't help but think that Will reminded him a bit of his own father.

"What happened to her?" asked Don as they walked over to his desk.

"She started to throw up, then cry. It took me forever to calm her down. I felt so bad for her, but I couldn't really think of anything to say. What do you say to a teenager who's just been told someone might try and kill them?"

"Her brother and her father took it pretty well, considering the news."

"There's some good news," muttered Terri sarcastically. "I've got some bad news; we can't actually arrange for protective custody for Libby until tomorrow."

"Great," muttered Don. "We'll put an agent on her until morning." Don thought for a moment. "How about Matt Depp?"

Terri nodded. "I think he's still here, and if not, I can get a hold of him pretty easily."

"Okay," said Don; he rubbed his forehead for a moment. "Keep them here until we can get Matt Depp here."

"Alright," said Terri.

XVIIIIV

Kade riffled through the wallet he had pulled out of the do-gooder's pocket finding twenty dollars, ID cards, and several credit cards. He took the out the twenty and shoved it down into his back pocket before closing the wallet. He spotted a homeless man leaning against the side of a building shoving dirty newspaper down into his shoe attempting to cover the hole in the sole. Kade quickened his pace and stopped in front of the man.

The homeless man looked up at him and then back down. "I ain't botherin' no one," he muttered before going back to his task. Kade sighed and dropped the wallet into the homeless man's lap and walked away. The homeless man lifted the wallet, looked through it, and pulled out several of the credit cards. By the time he looked up again, Kade was gone.

XVIIIIV

Will, Aaron, and Libby Fields finally left the office around eleven with Agent Matt Depp right behind them. Don was back at the office early the next day with the office already abuzz with people working. He noticed Libby Fields sitting at a desk with her older brother standing close arguing with Matt Depp. Within a few hours, they were going to be moving Libby to a hotel on the far side of town.

"Do we have any leads at all on Kade?" Don asked David who was talking with Terri.

"We've gotten about thirty tips," replied David, "but none of them have panned out."

"Great," said Don. "Well, we have got to get a real one sooner or later."

Don felt a tapping on his shoulder and saw David and Terri pointing behind him. Letting out a sigh, Don turned around to face whoever was there. Aaron Fields was standing there looking rather angry. "I need to speak with you, Agent Eppes."

"Okay."

"I want to work on this investigation."

"You work in narcotics?" said Don; he had a feeling though of why Aaron wanted to work on the Hackett case.

"Yes, but my sister isn't being threatened by some drug lord."

"I understand that."

"Agent Eppes, let me put it this way. If my sister was to get hurt by this maniac, what would I tell my father? I couldn't help because it wasn't my department?"

With a frustrated sigh, Don relented. "Fine." Don shrugged. "You're on the case."

"Agent Eppes!" shouted a voice through the bullpen; a younger agent came rushing up to him. "One of Connor Smith's credit cards was traced to a shoe store downtown."

Don smiled. "What the address?"

The agent handed Don a piece of paper torn from a larger one and showed it to Don. Don read it quickly and then looked up to David, Terri, and Aaron who was standing close enough to get a look at the paper. "Let's go."

XVIIIIV

Charlie was headed to the FBI offices ready to start work on what brother Kade might also go after. Don had called late last night to say that they had found Libby Fields and were taking her into protective custody. He parked his bike not far from the doors and was about to enter when a red-headed young woman caught his eye. Charlie did a quit double take and saw that the young woman who was walking quickly away from the FBI offices matched the picture of Libby Fields that had been in the file.

Charlie headed toward Libby, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. "We know she's there," said the owner of the hand; he was a young man with shaggy brown hair.

"Who are you?"

"Walk with me." He started following Libby, and Charlie followed. "My name is Agent Matthew Depp." He showed Charlie his badge to prove he wasn't lying. "I'm was assigned to Libby's case. Later today, we're moving her to a hotel on the other side of town."

"Then why has she left the offices?"

"If someone told you that someone might try kill, you might need some time to think," replied Matt. "A crowded FBI office is not the best place to do that."

"Does my brother know she's left?"

"Yeah. I called Agent Eppes as soon as she left the office. I figure as long as I can see her, what's the harm in letting her get some air?"

"How did you know who my brother was?" asked Charlie, watching as Libby turned the corner; Matt quickened his pace and turned so he could keep a close eye on her.

"You and I have actually met, briefly. You working on a case. You see, I like math; I'm not good at it. All the math and science skills in my family went to my older sister. She's an architect now."

"I don't really-"

"It's okay if you don't remember me. I believe I might have said about three words to you the entire case."

Libby entered the big glass doors of a large library, and Matt and Charlie followed. The girl was now quickly going up the stairs to the second level of the library, but Matt stayed close to the doors.

"Try talking to her," he suggested, staring at the stairs.

"What?" said Charlie. "Why me? You're the one who is supposed to be watching her."

"She might need someone to talk to. Imagine some of the thoughts going through her head right now."

"What exactly am I supposed to say?"

"You might not have to say anything. Just let her talk. I know she doesn't even want to see me. Would you want to see the person who is constant reminder you that someone might kill try you? I think her brother is getting on her nerves, too; he sure is getting on mine. I understand that he's worried, but I know how to do my job."

Charlie sighed and followed Libby up the stairs and spotted her on the other side of the second floor sitting in some chairs close to a large glass cage filled with birds. He hurried over and sat down in the chair next to her. "Hi," he said quietly.

Libby's head turned quickly, and she looked as if she was going to bolt from the chair she was in. In fact, she was about halfway out of her seat when Charlie stopped her. "Wait a second. My name is Charlie Eppes."

Libby didn't sit back down, but she didn't bolt away either. "Eppes?"

"Yeah," replied Charlie. "Agent Don Eppes is my brother." Libby didn't quite look unconvinced so he showed her his FBI ID card to prove it. "I'm here with Agent Depp."

Libby sighed. "I figured he'd be right behind me. I can't believe it. I get a second chance, and I screw it up."

"What?"

"Nothing." She paused for a moment. "Between all my brother's ranting yesterday I heard him mention an Eppes and math being the reason I was there. Are you that Eppes?"

"Yeah. I teach applied mathematics."

"And that math told you someone might try and kill me."

"Math and information from the other crimes and such."

"No one should have told me."

Charlie was shocked by her words. "We're trying to help you."

"I know, but now I can't stop thinking about dying, now. It sucks!" A few people reading at a table not far away told them to be quiet. Libby rolled her eyes and stood up from her chair; she walked over to the large glass cage and watched the animals inside.

Charlie followed the young woman over to the large glass case and watched as she stared at the small birds; her sad, blue eyes showed a painful longing. "This is one of my favorite places," said Libby quietly, setting her hand on the glass causing a small, bright, multi-colored bird to fly off the branch it was resting on.

"Why?" asked Charlie watching as the bird grew used to Libby's hand and flew back to the branch; he turned toward her waiting for an answer.

"The birds," Libby replied quietly. "Look at them." Charlie turned back to the cage and watched them; four of them sat on one of the fake branches perfectly content with their company. They were all different colors and sizes, which obviously meant they were different species, but they seemed to get along well. He looked down at the bottom and saw several others feasting on the birdseed in a small bowl.

"What?" he asked quietly, now captivated by the small, brightly colored animals.

"Look at them," she repeated, a sad smile slipping onto her face as she watched another one fly across the cage. "They're all different colors, sizes, species. They all have different needs and usually different environments, but they all learned to live together in one home. They're not mean, or hateful, or vengeful." She let her hand fall away from the glass.

"You know," said Charlie stepping closer to the glass to study a small blue bird as it hopped closer to its companion, "the behavior of birds can be modeled game theory as a n-person non-cooperative game..." He stopped when he saw the odd look Libby was giving.

"They don't fight," continued Libby, shaking her head slightly. "They don't mock; they just live with each other. They function like they need to. They don't hurt each other or steal. No violence, no problems." A hollow laugh came from Libby's throat. "No drugs. No revenge or..." She fell silent for a moment and stared at the green and yellow bird that had come back to rest on the branch. "No murder," she added quietly before walking away from the cage and sitting back down in her chair. Charlie followed; he had a very confused look on his face.

"I didn't figure that all out right then. My sister spent a lot of time in this library when I was little, and when she had to baby-sit me, I would go with her. I never liked the children's section, so I always came up here and watched the birds. Now, whenever I need to think, I come and watch the birds."

With a sigh, Libby rose from her chair again. "Come one. I'm sure Agent Depp is waiting."

"It's gonna be okay," said Charlie as they walked back toward the stairs. "They're going to catch him."

Libby shrugged apathetically. "My fate is not up to me anymore. It's in the hands of something much bigger?"

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "The FBI?"

Libby laughed. "I was thinking God, but if you want to settle for the FBI, go right ahead."

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Agent Depp came back over to them. "You get your head cleared?" he asked Libby setting a hand on her shoulder.

"No," replied Libby, "but I do feel a bit better."

Charlie followed Libby and Matt out as they walked back to the FBI office.

XVIIIIV

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. This will probably be the last chapter for a while. I still have other things I need to get done. Up dates from now on will probably be sporadic. Thank you for reading.


	18. Chapter XVIII

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: Sorry about the wait. I hope to post chapter nineteen soon, but then again, I hoped to have this story done last years. Reviews and advice always welcome. The last chapter 18 I posted was missing about a fourth of it so here's the right one. Sorry! Thanx to my beta, Dre. Any leftover mistakes are my own. BYES!

**Blood Relatives **

Chapter Eighteen

_"You can't run from trouble; ain't no place that far away." Splash Mountain: Disney World_

Don and Terri entered the shoe store while Aaron and David waited outside in case their suspect tried to run. Don and Terri looked around the small shoe store; toward the front of the store was a checkout counter where a man in several layers of tattered clothing was being held up by the young salesgirl. She was desperately trying to explain to the man about the credit card situation, but the man ignored her and continued to pound on the box of shoes he was trying to buy.

"I'm sorry," said the salesgirl, "but there is a problem with this credit card. If you could just wait a few minutes."

"I've waited long enough," the man almost shouted. "I've got another damn credit card if that's what the problem is."

"Sir," the young girl started again, but Don interrupted her.

"I think all the credit cards you have would be a problem," said Don.

The man turned around toward Don and Terri and opened and closed his mouth several times. For a moment, it looked like he was going to try and make a run for the door, but he must have decided that would be a bad idea because his shoulders slumped in defeat a few seconds later.

"I didn't steal them," said the man, "so don't even try and accuse me of that." He paused for a moment to wet his very dry lips and then continued. "I was mindin' my own damn business when some young guy walked up to me and just started starin'. Well, I told him that I wasn't botherin' no one, and he just dropped the wallet into my lap."

Don and Terri were a little surprised by how fast the man spilled his story, but that didn't stop them from what they were there to do.

"What did the man look like?" asked Don, trying to get to the man to calm back down.

"You don't believe me, do you?!" asked the man angrily.

"No," said Don, holding up his hand. "We believe you; I just really need to know what the man looked like."

The man studied them both carefully for a moment and then looked over his shoulders at the salesgirl. "I'll tell you what the guy looked like if you let me walk out of this store with those shoes; I need shoes."

Don opened his mouth to tell the man he could charge him with obstruction of justice, but Terri cut him off.

"How much are the shoes?" she asked the young girl.

"$74. 39."

Don shook his head complete ly confused by Terri's motive but kept his mouth shut.

"You find a twenty dollar pair of shoes, and we'll ley you walk out of here."

The man looked to the salesgirl again. "There's clearance shoes in the back," she said pointing to a jumble of racks with every type of shoe a person could imagine covering them.

"Deal," said the man. He hurried to the back, grabbed a new pair of tennis shoes, and then hurried back to the front; he looked afraid that if he didn't hurry they might go back on the deal. "The guy was only about 5' 9"," said the man as the girl began to ring him up. "Really blonde hair, fit, and green eyes. He looked really pissed off about somethin'."

"Anything else you can tell us about him?" asked Don, watching the salesgirl put the shoes into a bag; the description matched Kade perfect, but the more he could get from this man the better.

"He had a backpack," said the man with a shrug. "What the hell else was I supposed to notice about him?!"

"I just wanted to know if there was something more?" replied Don angrily. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth." He stared the man down, and the man looked back to the girl. "Where were you at when he gave you the credit cards?"

"About half a block away from here," replied the man. "Near Sam's Deli."

"What time?"

"I don't know. Last night sometime. I don't own a watch."

"Anything else?"

"I didn't pay too much attention to him. I just wanted him to leave me alone."

"Thank you," said Terri; she looked to the salesgirl. "What's the total?"

"$18.74."

Terri reached into her pocket and taking out the bit of money she kept on her person. Handing the girl a twenty, Terri collected her change and then handed the bag to the man.

"Thanks," said the man still not quite sure if he could trust Terri. He was about to walk out of the store when Don stopped him.

"Credit cards?" said Don simply as he held out his hand.

The man glared at Don but handed over the three credit cards and then walked out of the store. Don and Terri followed him out and signaled for David and Aaron to let him pass when they moved to stop him.

"Why did you let him get shoes?" asked Don angrily.

"Because if we did have to charge him with obstruction of justice and take him in we would only be wasting time," replied Terri as they walked back to the SUV. "It was easier just to let him get the shoes and know if Kade was in that area."

"You bought him shoes?" said David, completely confused.

"It's what he wanted," replied Terri. "Now we know that Kade was in this area sometime last night, and we didn't have to waste time finding it out."

"Seems fair enough," said David with a shrug, "but we still have to figure out where he's going."

"And who other than Libby he might be going after," added Don. "We're moving Libby to the hotel this afternoon, so that should buy us some time if he's going after her next, but if not, then I hope Charlie has had some more luck."

XVIIIIV

Charlie was working in the conference room, feverishly writing on a whiteboard and consulting maps and notebooks that were covering the table when a soft knocking on the door caught his attention. He turned around to see Libby Fields standing in the doorway looking around at all the books.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly, not stepping any farther into the room.

Charlie looked back and forth from his work to Libby trying to come up with an as best he could. "Um...," said Charlie, biting the inside of his cheek slightly, "I'm working."

"You're doing math."

"That's my work," said Charlie. "I'm a mathematician." He recognized the look on Libby's face as normal for when he explained his job to people; there was just a bit of comprehension in her eyes but not total understanding, yet. "Remember when you asked me earlier about the math and figuring out that someone might try and hurt you?"

"Yeah." She nodded her head slightly, but still stayed in the doorway.

"Well, I'm working basically the same equation, but instead of looking for younger sisters, I'm looking for younger brothers." The glint of comprehension was gone. "It's kind of hard to explain."

"Then please don't try," said Libby, holding up a hand as she walked over to the table and sat down in one of the chairs. "I've never really been good at math." She watched as Charlie went back to working, but a few minutes later, Libby asked another question. "Why do you like it so much?"

Charlie stopped working and turned back to Libby. "What do you mean?"

"Why do you like math so much?" Libby asked again. "I mean if you didn't like math a lot you wouldn't work like this, right? So why do like math so much?"

Charlie thought for a moment; he couldn't believe that in all the years he had taught he had never had to answer this question. "I guess because I'm good at it; I understand it without even trying, and I can use it in so many ways?" He paused. "Don't you have something you're good at that you just really like?"

Libby smiled; it was the first time since she had arrived at the FBI office that she had smiled. "Guitar," she answered. "I love my music. I taught myself to play on my dad's old guitar. I just love music. Old rock and roll, new rock, alternative. I love the Talking Heads; they're an awesome band."

Charlie nodded. "I guess math is my guitar."

Libby seemed to digest his answer and then nodded her head. "Fair enough." She looked across all the boards. "Are you getting anywhere?"

"I think," replied Charlie. "I just need to focus."

Libby got the gentle hint and stood up from the chair. "I get it; Matt's probably wondering where I am, anyway. They're moving me to a hotel later on. Thanks for talking."

Charlie nodded and watched as Libby walked out of the room. He had to say he felt sorry for the girl and prayed that they would catch Kade as soon as possible.

XVIIIIV

Don, David, Terri, and Aaron returned to the FBI office knowing only a little more about Kade's movements than the night before. "Right now," said Don, "our best bets are Charlie's equation and keeping Libby away from Kade. We keep running down tips the best we can."

"When are you moving Libby?" asked Aaron.

"Soon," replied Don. "As soon as we can actually."

"I think my dad brought her some stuff from the house," said Aaron. "He was drilling me earlier about how long she was going to be gone, but I kept telling him that even if I did know I couldn't tell him."

"I saw a guitar sitting in here earlier," said David.

"That's probably Libby's. Dad didn't really know what to bring. He thinks Libby can't go anywhere without that thing, and he's probably right."

"I'm gonna go see how Charlie is doing," said Don, turning away from the group of agents and heading down to the conference room. As he walked in he saw Charlie hurriedly scrawling on his boards.

"Hey, Buddy," said Don as he sat down on the corner of the table. "How's your work going?"

"Pretty good," replied Charlie, not looking away from the board, "but this one is take a lot longer because there are quite few younger brothers in the L.A. area."

Don didn't really want to think about the younger brothers considering one of them was standing right in front of him writing away on a board. "Hate to ask, but do you have any front runners?"

Charlie stopped writing for a moment, but then started again. "Not right now," he replied quietly, "but I haven't done much work on it yet."

"Okay," said Don. "Look, Buddy, I still have some more work I have to do. I can give you a ride if you need it."

"Sure," replied Charlie. "Just tell me whenever."

Don stood up. "I'll see you later."

Charlie nodded as Don walked out of the room. He didn't want to tell Don that there were front runners. Out of the six younger brothers all living in the L.A. area he had gotten four all worked into the equation; he had been working on it since the night before. He was the front runner of the four right now which was a little scary, but he was pretty sure, considering how far away his house was from Kade's, that he wouldn't be the target overall. If worst came to worst, he'd have to tell his brother; he was just praying he wouldn't have to.

XVIIIIV

Libby had been moved to the hotel to the hotel two days ago, and there hadn't even been a single threat from Kade. Tips had been reported all over the city, but they had all been dead ends, and now the tips were becoming fewer and far between. Charlie was almost finished the equation for the younger brothers, but a flaw in the data had set him back a few days. He still wasn't sharing too much about the equation, yet. Every time Don went in to talk to him Charlie would stay tight lipped insisting that he needed to work; Don listened, but he was finding it increasingly more annoying.

Don looked up to see Aaron Fields walking toward his desk. "What can I do for you?" asked Don, looking back down. Aaron was even more annoying that Charlie's behavior; he was definitely not a fan of working with Libby Fields' older brother.

"Have there been anymore tips?" asked Aaron.

"You would be the first to know if there were anymore tips," said Don. _"Because I would want you out of here chasing it down and out of my hair," _he thought to himself. He looked up to see Aaron looking out one of the windows. "How is your father doing?"

"He wants Libby back," replied Aaron simply. "My mom is in Maine visiting our sister, and he's afraid to tell my mother what the hell is going on."

Don nodded; he felt bad for Aaron, worse for his father, but most of his sympathy went to Libby who was sitting in a hotel room not knowing if someone was going to come after her or not.

Don's cellphone rang suddenly, and he reached down to answer it. "Eppes."

"Agent Eppes?" said the woman on the other end of the phone.

"Yes."

"I'm Nurse Katie Bolkes at Los Angeles Community Hospital; I work in the emergency room here, and I was helping to treat a woman named Laura Paige. She asked me to call you and have you come down to the hospital right away. She says it involves her grandson."

"Okay," said Don. "Is it possible for you to put her on the phone?"

"Unfortunately no," said Nurse Bolkes. "The doctor is still treating her, and no cell phones are allowed back there. I'm calling from the nurses station phone right now."

Don took a deep breath. "My partner and I will be there as soon as we can."

"Thank you, Agent Eppes."

Don hung up his phone as he quickly stood up from his desk. "Where's Terri at?" he murmured to himself, leaving Aaron at his desk. He found in her the break room drinking a cup of coffee.

"We gotta go to the hospital," he said.

Terri stopped in mid drink giving him a almost scared look. "Why? What happened? Did something happen with Libby?"

"No. I just got a call from a nurse at Los Angeles Community Hospital; Laura Paige is in the emergency room being treated, and she had the nurse call me. She needs us to come down there right away."

Terri set down her coffee and followed Don out of the break room. "Did the nurse say anything about what happened?"

Don shook his head. "All the she said was that the doctor was still treating her, and that she said the call concerned her grandson."

"Do you think he tried to visit them?"

"I don't know."

" It seems to me that Laura would have called right away if he had tried to go over to their home."

"Maybe Kade attacked her."

"Do you think he would hurt his own grandmother?"

"He's killed two bystanders so far; I don't think Kade is beyond attacking his own grandmother if he thinks she might be standing in his way."

As they stepped onto the elevator, Don shook his head and pressed the button for the first floor. "This is one fucked up case," muttered Don as the doors closed.

XVIIIIV

Kade was pissed. He knew he had to find Libby Fields fast if he was ever going to get this done, but his plans kept getting botched. The nights outside the church he had almost had her, but the FBI agent came up to her just as he was ready to go after her. That let him know two things; the FBI was onto his pattern, and that Libby was going to be very hard to get a hold of.

Part of that was taken care of already. In just a little while everyone's guard was going to be down including whatever agents were posted on Libby. All he had to do now was wait it out.

XVIIIIV

The emergency room waiting room was packed with people who all wanted to see the doctor, and Don and Terri felt sorry for them considering the high humidity in the room even with the air conditioner. They quickly made their way over to the desk, startling the young receptionist who was sitting there. She looked up at them and grabbed the clipboard sitting on the desk. "Fill these out, bring them back, and I'll call you when the doctor can see you."

"We're not here to see the doctor," said Terri. "I'm Agent Terri Lake, and this is Agent Don Eppes." They showed the woman their badges. "We're actually here to see a patient: Laura Paige."

"Laura Paige?" said the girl. "Visiting hours are over though, and you're really not in the right part of the hospital."

"No," said Don. "She's being treated in the emergency room, and a Nurse Bolkes called us down here saying that she needed to speak with us."

The woman dug around in the papers on the desk, searching for god knows what when a hand on Don's shoulder startled him. "Agent Eppes?" said a woman's voice. Don and Terri turned around to see a woman in a colorful pair of scrubs, giving them a nervous smile.

"Yeah," replied Don. "I'm Agent Eppes, and this Agent Lake. How did you know?"

"You kind of stick out in the waiting room," she said with a shrug. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to see Laura, but be warned, she's not exactly in great shape emotionally. I tried to convince to hold off on calling you, but she kept insisting."

Don and Terri followed the nurse down a hall to one of the treatment rooms and were shocked to see a very bruised and battered Laura Paige sitting on the table being looked over by the doctor. "Hello, agents," she said quietly, wincing as the doctor put antiseptic on a cut on her forehead.

"What happened , Mrs. Paige?" asked Terri quietly.

"Laura, please."

"May we please talk to her alone for a few minutes?" Don asked the doctor who was busy picking up his supplies.

The doctor nodded as he stood up from the chair he was sitting in. "I'll be back in a little bit to set your wrist, Laura," he said calmly as he excited the room.

Don and Terri looked over Laura carefully. One eye was black and slightly swollen while the other was red from crying. There were several shallow cuts across her face, and her bottom was split and swollen.

"I never saw that side of him before," the older woman murmured quietly as she cradled her apparently broken wrist. "I never thought that he could do that."

"Kade?" asked Terri. She didn't really want to interrupt Laura in fear she wouldn't continue.

Laura looked up at Terri eyes wide with shock. "No," she said, shaking her head. "James."

"James did this?" said Terri completely shocked, but remembering how James reacted to the questioning back at the office, the shock wore away.

Laura nodded slightly.

"Why?" asked Don.

"I tried to stop him. I heard him answer the phone, and it was such a weird conversation. He just kept saying that none of it could be true and that he would do anything he could to help. After he hung up, I asked him who it was, but I knew. I knew it was Kade; I could tell by the way James was acting. He said that he had to go meet him; he said that we had to help him."

Laura took a deep breath as he eyes began to water. "What happened next?" asked Terri; after giving Laura a few minutes to collect herself.

"He told me that we had to meet Kade at nine." She paused and turned to Don. "I told him that we needed to call you, but he ignored it. I picked up the phone to call you, and that's when he went ballistic." Laura started taking deep breaths to try and calm down. "I know he went to meet Kade. I don't want to believe that Kade could have done, but this is just driving James crazy."

"Where is James supposed to meet Kade?" asked Don.

Laura gave them the name of a park not far from where Patricia Hutter was murdered before taking another deep breath. "You've got to make this all stop," begged Laura. "You've got to."

"We will," said Don; he looked down at his watch and saw that James would be meeting with Kade in less than a half hour. "Excuse me, but I have to go make a phone call." He stood up and left the small exam room while Terri was still trying to calm Laura down. The doctor entered the room as Don left, and Don pulled out his cellphone as carefully as possible, remembering what Nurse Bolkes said about cellphones not being allowed.

He quickly hit the speed dial for David's cell and waited while it rang. "Sinclair?"

"David," said Don. "Terri and I are at Los Angeles Community Hospital right now talking to Laura Paige."

"Why? What happened?"

"She's said that her husband is supposed to meet Kade at nine o' clock, and when she tried to stop him from leaving he beat her."

"Okay. Where are they supposed to meet at?"

Don gave him the name of the park. "You've got to hurry," said Don. "We can't let Kade get away this time."

"We won't," said David.

"Good. Terri and I are gonna get there as soon as we can."

Don hung up the cellphone and walked back into the room. The doctor was explaining to Laura what was going to happen after they set her wrist, and Terri had a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Laura," said Don as he walked over, "is there anything else you want to tell us?"

Laura shook her head sadly. "Please, just make this all stop."

"We're trying," said Terri. "We really are."

XVIIIIV

David was glad that the air in the park was at least cooler even if it was still just as humid. He had arrived at the park along with Aaron Fields and a few other agents at ten till nine, and James Paige had shown up five minutes later. He had sat down on a park bench and started waiting. It was now ten after nine, and James and all the other agents were still waiting.

"Where is he?" David heard Aaron say over his earpiece.

"Maybe Kade is making sure no one else is here," David replied, but as he spoke with the agent, James stood up from the bench and started walking quickly down a path. "Suspect is on the move," David said, following James as quickly as he could. "I repeat: Suspect is on the move."

James suddenly took off running, surprising David, and David could just make out two forms in the dark moving toward James. David ran over to where James was being restrained by the two agents, one of which was Aaron Fields.

"Let me go!" shouted James. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"I think your wife would say otherwise," retorted David.

James jaw dropped in shock, and he pulled even harder against the two agents who had hold of his arms. "She wouldn't tell you anything!" he insisted angrily

"You want to call her and ask." James merely glared at David. "We know you were waiting for Kade."

James suddenly stopped struggling, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "He didn't show," murmured James. "He said he would be here at nine; he said he didn't do it. Why didn't he show?"

David was wondering the exact same thing, but he didn't say this to James. "When did he call you?"

"At five today," murmured James as one of the agents pulled his arms behind his back and put handcuffs on him. "Please tell Laura I'm sorry." He ignored the agent who was reading him his rights. "Tell her I'm so very sorry."

As James continued with his bleeding heart apology, Don and Terri arrived on the scene.

"Where's Kade at?" asked Don hurriedly.

"He never showed," replied David. "We have been waiting out here for almost an hour, but Kade never showed."

"Something doesn't seem right about this," said Terri. "Kade has been so careful with every step of his plan even the ones he's had to make up on the spot. If he said he was going to be here to meet James, which I still don't understand why because he's hasn't tried to reach out for help to them before, why wouldn't he be here?"

Don was listening carefully to Terri's words, and when the answer hit him, it stunned him completely. "This has all got to be part of his plan," said Don quietly.

"What?" said Aaron, joining the group after helping to haul James Paige away.

"Kade is using everyone," Don said louder this time. "His grandparents, the college, even us. He set this whole thing up."

"What?" said Terri, echoing Aaron.

"He knew we would all be here if we thought we had a chance at catching him. He knows that right now the guard is down around Libby. No one is expecting him to be over there."

"How would Kade find out where Libby is?" asked David.

"Same way he's found everything else out," said Don. "He uses people and little situations to gain something bigger." Don stopped talking abruptly and pulled out his cellphone. "I gotta call Depp, and we've got to get over there." With the phone still up against his ear, Don turned around and headed back to his truck with Terri, David, and Aaron close behind.

David and Aaron went to the vehicle they had driven to the park, pulled out quickly, and started toward the hotel on the other side of town. Don hung up the phone as he got into the drier's seat, and Terri stared at the look blank look on his face from the passenger's side.

"What's wrong?"

"Depp didn't pick up."

XVIIIIV

Kade stared at the hotel. It didn't look to be very nice, but it was well-kept and seemed to blend in well with all the other brick buildings around it. The tell-tale dark blue car was sitting in front of the hotel, and an over-alert FBI agent was sitting in the front seat watching the people walking by on the sidewalk carefully.

A crash from behind him startled Kade, and he turned to see a stray cat digging through a trash can. With a sly smile, Kade lifted the gun that had been hanging in his limp grip and aimed carefully. The sound of the gunshot filled the air, and the cat let out a howl of anger and fear before running off; the bullet was buried somewhere in the trash it had just been digging through.

The sound of a car door slamming shut and hurried response to someone drifted to Kade's ears, and he quickly hid behind the dumpster in the alley. Quick footsteps sounded across the pavement of the road, and Kade smiled. The agent showed up in the entry of the alley and entered slowly. The agent was on high alert, but when he walked past the dumpster Kade quickly sprung up hitting the man on the back of the head with the butt of the gun. The agent fell the ground unconscious.

Kade didn't spend long thinking over this small victory. He turned around quickly and headed toward the hotel.

XVIIIIV

Matt Depp was staring out the window waiting to hear a response from the agent down below, but no such luck had occurred.

"You're going to make yourself paranoid," he heard Libby say from where she sat on the bed furthest from the window. "You're already making me paranoid."

Matt turned around to see Libby still sitting with her guitar across her lap; she had been playing different Queen songs for over a half hour. "Just waiting for Leo to respond; it's been almost ten minutes."

"I'm sure it's fine," said Libby, turning her attention back to her guitar and plucking out a few notes from The Prophet's Song.

"I'm amazed at well you're taking all this."

Libby sighed. "If I sit here telling myself that's it's him, I'm gonna go crazy."

Matt shook his head and turned back to the window. He couldn't actually see the agent's car or anything, but watching was giving him something to do."

Libby had made it though about half of The Prophet's Song when a knock on the door stopped her. Matt indicated for her to be quiet, and she carefully set her guitar down beside her and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Who is it?" asked Matt, walking cautiously toward the door.

"Hotel staff," said the voice on the other. "There's been a complaint about the music coming from this room."

Matt shook his head as he opened the door, but was shocked when no one stood outside the door. "Libby," he said quietly, turning toward her for a second, "as quietly as you can, I want you to hide in the bathroom."

Libby nodded, carefully got off the bed, and hurried to the bathroom. Matt pulled out his gun and reached behind him to close the room door, but before he could get it closed, someone jumped out at him knocking him back into the room and onto the floor. His gun flew across the room and landed on the other side of the first bed. His attacker closed the door quickly and pointed the gun down at him.

"Where is she?" asked the attacker.

"Go to hell," was Matt's response.

The attacker laughed and shook his head. Without any warning at all, he raised his gun and fired.

XVIIIIV

Libby heard the shot from the other side of the bathroom door followed closely by a cry of pain, and it took all her will power not to throw open the door and see if Matt was alright. She struggled to control her breathing and prayed the attacker wouldn't hear her.

"That shot was aimed at his leg," said the attacker loudly. "Now, I am not a happy man, and I am very close to shooting this agent in the head. I'd like to leave a witness, but if I must kill him I must. Come out, and I won't hurt him anymore."

"Don't do it, Libby!" she heard Matt shout. "I'll be fine!" His sentence ended in a pained cry from some sort of torture from the attacker.

"I wouldn't believe him if I were you," said the attacker. "I'll give you till the count of five: one...two...three..." She heard the gun click. "Four...fi-"

"Okay," said Libby, throwing open the bathroom door and walking out into the hotel room. A smile spread across the attacker's face, but a look of horror covered Matt's.

"I thought you'd see it my way," said the attacker, stepping over Matt who was breathing heavily and shaking his head.

"Let him go," said Libby, backing up against the wall.

"Don't worry," said the attacker. "I will; I just have something I have to take care of first."

"Why are you doing this?" asked Libby, taking a tentative look past Kade to where Matt lay on the floor. He had rolled over onto his stomach and was slowly making his way toward his gun, but the movement was slow and was causing him a lot of pain.

"So they learn that they can't just make promises and not keep them," replied the attacker. "So these people learn my pain."

"You know what it's like," said Libby, pushing herself up against the wall as the attacker came closer; she was struggling to come up with anything she could do. "Why would you want to make anyone feel that?"

The attacker stared at her not speaking, and Libby took this chance to look over at Matt praying he had made it to the gun. Her heart sank when she saw Matt lying very still on the floor, and she struggled not to cry. She looked back to her attacker and saw the distant look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, "but this is the way it has to be." He reached out with one had and grabbed Libby around the throat. She swung out her hand in order to defend herself and made several deep scratches across his face, but it did not phase him and neither did her attempts to kick him. The last thing Libby ever heard was a hoarse croak from Matt as he tried to scream at her attacker and the faint ringing of a cellphone. She closed her eyes as her mind began to grow fuzzy and let herself slip away.

XVIIIIV

Don speeded all the way to the hotel praying that Depp's failure to answer the first call was just because he couldn't get to it in time, but Terri had called several more times on the drive over, and Matt had still failed to answer. "I've called back up," said Terri, hanging up the phone. "I hope they can get there fast enough."

"How did he do it?" demanded Don. "We were so careful. How the hell could he have figured this out?!"

"This guy goes beyond your normal revenge killer," said Terri. "He's a confused genius, and that's a very dangerous. He's placing blame on the people he can get to. He can't kill the guy who killed his family because he doesn't know who that is, so he's goes after whoever came next. Nothing's stopping him."

Several other police cars were pulling up outside the hotel as Don and Terri arrived, and Don hurriedly turned off the vehicle and jumped with Terri close on his heels. David and Aaron were already there and nearly crashed into them as all four of them tried to fit into the entrance.

"What the hell is going?" asked the night clerk as all four of them raced to the fire stairs and sprinted to the third floor. They reached the room where Libby and Matt had been staying and stared in horror at the wide open door.

They entered the hotel room and saw a scene that seemed straight out of a Jason movie. Matt Depp was lying on his back near the door with a lost look on his face as he stared at the limp body of Libby Fields that was slumped against the far wall. His leg and the floor were both covered with blood.

Terri knelt down beside the agent and reached out to check his pulse, but a hoarse croak from his throat stopped her. "I'm alive." He never took his eyes off Libby.

Terri turned toward David. "Call an ambulance."

Don took a deep breath as he reached out to check Libby's pulse, Aaron seemed to be rooted to his spot at the door, and Don shook his head when he felt no pulse. He checked again hoping it was a fluke the first time, but he didn't feel a heart beat. "She's dead," Don heard Matt say from behind him as if the agent could have heard Don's thoughts. "He strangled her."

"No," said Aaron, shaking his head. "Check again."

Don sighed sadly and turned toward Aaron. "She's dead."

Aaron's breath hitched in his throat, and he dropped to his knees on the floor. "Check again," muttered Aaron, not believing his baby sister could be dead. "Please check again." By now tears were streaming down his face.

XVIIIIV

Don, Terri, and David stood outside the hotel as ambulance personal loaded Matt into an ambulance. Don had still been there when they took the agent out of the hotel room, and all Matt had been saying at that point was that Libby died for him and several sorry's.

Several crime scene investigators had to pull Aaron Fields away from his sister's body, and he was now being lead to ambulance; Don was pretty sure they were going to give him a sedative, considering he was still struggling a lot.

"The bullet that take out of Matt's leg is probably going to be an exact match for the one's from Greene and Lancaster," said David.

"It's not like him to leave a witness," said Don, trying to think.

"It was his form of torture," said Terri. "He left an agent alive to have to live with what he saw. He's--"

Terri was cut off when Don's cellphone began ringing; he grabbed it from where it hung off his belt, but he did not recognize the number flashing across the screen. He flipped open the phone. "Eppes?"

"Boo," said a low voice on the other end. "Surreal, isn't it?"

"Where the hell are you?"

"If I told you that, my game would be over, and I can't have that. Libby Fields was brave though. She could have lived, but she decided Matt's life was more important. I wonder how he's doing with that?"

"You're sick, Kade. You need help." It was this moment that Aaron was being lead by two paramedics happened to walk by, and he turned his head toward Don. With one burst of strength, he broke away from the paramedics and ran over to the group. He grabbed the phone from Don and screamed into it. "YOU SICK BASTARD!"

"You must be Aaron. Nice to meet you. Your sister was a real pleasure, too."

"WHY? WHY, YOU FUCKING SICKO? WHY?!"

"Sucks to know what I feel. My little Alex was one when she died; she had done nothing wrong. Your sister was druggie, yet she got two chances at life. Why should your sister get two chances when my Alex didn't get any? She was a fucking little heroin addict."

Aaron was on the ground again screaming obscenities into the mouthpiece before finally dropping it and crying. "Why? Why? Why?"

Don picked up the phone as the paramedics helped Aaron back to his feet and leading him over to the ambulance again. Don held the phone to his ear when he saw it was still connected. "Kade?"

"Good-bye, _Don_," using his name like a weapon again. "We will talk again." The phone went dead.

XVIIIIV

No more possible Mary-Sue. Hope you enjoyed. Sorry about the wait, and trust me. Everything will be explained soon (I hope). Can anyone tell me why Talking Heads is a joke in the story? Reviews always welcome. BYES!


	19. Chapter XIX

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: To point out to a review, yes this is a Charlie in trouble and Don worried story, but I would also like to point out I started this story when there was only about two hundred stories for Numb3rs and Don worry/Charlie in trouble was not a staple. (But no matter what, those kind of stories rock.) Please enjoy and review.

**Blood Relatives **

Chapter Nineteen

_"Where a blood relation sobs, an intimate friend should choke up, a distant acquaintance should sigh, a stranger should merely fumble sympathetically with his handkerchief." Mark Twain_

Charlie was working on the problem for the case early in the morning when Don came walking into the garage; Charlie turned around briefly to glance at him, but then quickly want beck to his work. "Hi, Don," he said absently.

"Hey, Buddy," replied Don, "Why aren't you working down at the office?"

"Needed to get out of there and clear my head; I'm almost done with it, Don. I think I'll only need a few more hours." He turned around again and saw the dark circles under Don's eyes. "Long night?"

"I've got some bad news, Charlie."

Charlie set the chalk he had been writing with down and stared at his brother in confusion. "What?"

Don took a death breath. "Last night, Kade somehow managed to find out where Libby was." Charlie's face fell as Don continued to speak. "He got a hold of his grandfather and told him to meet him at a park. Laura Paige called us from the hospital, James beat her, and told us where Kade was supposed to be. While we were all there apprehending James, Kade was across town. He set it all up.

Charlie's face was pale, and he was trying to come up with anything to say. "Is Libby okay?"

"No, Buddy. We got there too late."

Charlie collapsed into a chair and stared wide-eyed at his brother. "How Don? We knew she was Kade's next target; she was supposed to be safe."

"I know, Charlie, but Kade is different from any killer I've ever dealt with. He's using us to his advantage."

"We were supposed to be one step ahead of him, Don. This was supposed to keep Libby safe."

"I know," Don repeated, "but Kade seems to be unpredictable." Charlie was still sitting in his chair shaking his head. "Are you okay, Buddy?"

"Yeah," said Charlie, getting up out of his chair and walking back over to the chalkboard.

"You don't seem okay."

"A girl died, Don. Do you want me to be bouncing off the walls?" He was gripping the chalk tightly in his hand.

"No, being upset though would be perfectly normal."

"I'm upset, Don," replied Charlie, "but I'm not a kid. I understand that stuff like this can happen. I also know that if I don't finish this problem our next shot at catching Kade is going to go up in smoke."

"Charlie, if you want to talk about this."

"I'm okay, Don."

"Alright, Buddy. But don't forget you can talk about this. I gotta get back to the office." He walked out of the garage and shut the door tightly.

Charlie was glad his brother was gone because he wasn't sure how much longer he could have held it together. It wasn't that he had known Libby too well at all, but he had talked to her the day it happened: only a few hours before. He had even promised her that everything was going to work out fine, and now she was dead.

Charlie quickly wiped his hand beneath his eyes when he felt them watering up and quickly went back to the problem. He needed to finish this problem as soon as possible.

XVIIIIV

Kade was happy; his face was slightly sore, but he was happy. Libby was dead and that meant there was only one more person standing in the way of him and closure. They would all finally know what it was like to lose so many people who were important to them.

She had been easy enough to find; he had to sit outside the FBI offices for awhile dodging every time someone who could possibly recognize him walked out. He'd seen his ex-professor several times and laughed every time. It was hard to see your teacher when plotting murder without laughing.

When Libby had finally been moved from the FBI offices to the hotel, Kade had followed and waited till the moment was right. That part was hard; Kade was not a very patient person. The time came though, and now, things needed to be set into motion again.

XVIIIIV

A dark cloud seemed to had descended upon the L.A. FBI offices. Libby Fields had been under their watchful eye, yet Kade had still somehow managed to sneak under their radar and get to her.

There was still no evidence or even a tiny, microscopic detail that would explain how Kade had managed to find out where Libby was, and every second that ticked by put another person at risk.

"We got anything, yet?" asked Don, seeing David as he walked into the FBI offices.

With a sigh, David shook his head. "The hotel staff didn't see anything suspicious that night, and Leo Night, the agent who was posted outside the hotel wasn't much help. He was found face down and unconscious in an alley. He told us that he heard a gunshot and went to check it out; he doesn't remember anything after that."

Don thought about the information, but didn't say anything right away. "What about Depp?"

"The bullet the doctors took out of his leg last night matches with the one's from Lancaster and Greene perfectly, no real surprise there."

"How's he holding up though?"

David sighed again. "The doctors say he won't talk to anyone, not even his girlfriend."

Don nodded to this but still didn't say much.

"Kade's gonna be a hell of a lot easier for people on the street to spot now though," David hoped to spark a reaction from his boss. It was successful as David watched Don turn toward his with his eyebrow raised. "Libby had blood and skin under the fingernails of her right hand. Right now, Kade probably has three maybe even four deep scratches on his face."

"That should make it easier," muttered Don. "Maybe now we'll actually get a tip that pans out."

"What about Aaron?" asked David, giving Don the chance to do some explaining. "How's he holding up?"

"He's not," replied Don, scornfully. "Right now, he's still in the hospital. Last night, after the sedation wore off, he had a complete break down. Doctors are keeping him in the hospital for observation."

"Jesus," muttered David.

Don was just about to continue when he saw the top of his brother's head just above the walls of the cubicles. Charlie was moving fast between the small offices, and Don knew something important had happened.

"What's up, Charlie?" asked Don, studying his brother's appearance. His was breathing slightly harder than normal, and he was sweating; it was easy to tell he had biked through the heat to get there.

"I've got it," replied Charlie, breathing heavily. "I know who is going to be next."

"Who?" asked David and Don at the same time.

"His name is David Stuart," replied Charlie. "He's related to Rae Stuart. She's another narcotics agent." Charlie handed the file to his brother and gulped in a breath in hopes of steadying his breathing. He started to point to several different equations on the paper. "David Stuart has an 83.3 percent chance of being Kade's next victim; no one else even comes close."

Don nodded and handed the folder off to David. "Go show this to Terri, and tell her that she and I will be going to his address as soon as possible."

David nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

"Go down to the hospital and see if you can get Matt to talk to you." Don sighed. "He hasn't talked to any of us."

David nodded again as he flipped open the folder and walked away.

Don turned toward Charlie and saw that he was staring down at his feet. "Are you okay?"

"Tired," muttered Charlie. "I've been up for awhile working on that. Sorry it took so long."

"That's alright, Charlie," said Don a little confused. "You did great." He paused for a moment thinking if he really wanted to know the answer to his next question or not. "Charlie, what was your chance of being Kade's next victim?"

Charlie's body seemed to jerk slightly in surprise. "What?" he asked, turning toward Don but not looking him in the eyes.

"What's your percent? I figure you figured out all of the percents."

"I was the next highest percent," muttered Charlie; Don's eyes went wide. "But don't worry. I was way behind David Stuart: sixteen percent."

Don breathed a sigh of relief, but it didn't exactly take the huge weight off his shoulders that seemed to have been sitting there for weeks. "How you holding up?"

"Fine," replied Charlie quickly. Don knew Charlie was aware of what he really meant, but he didn't push it. "Don, I'm sorry, but I gotta go. I still have finals to grade."

"Yeah," said Don with a nod. "Thanks again, Charlie."

XVIIIIV

Don and Terri knocked on David Stuart's apartment door and waited as patiently as they could for someone to answer. When a few minutes had gone by and no one had answered, they began to worry that Kade had somehow managed to get to another person.

"Think he's at work?" asked Terri.

Don took a quick look at his watch. "3:36. That's a good chance; where did his file say he worked again?"

"Some insurance company downtown. I can call David, and he can-" Terri was cut off by a neighbor who had opened their apartment door.

"Are you looking for Davy?" asked the middle-aged woman who had stuck her head out into the hallway.

"David Stuart?"

"I call him Davy," retorted the woman. "If he's who you're looking for, try two floors down to Ivy Dillard's apartment; that's his girlfriend. he's barely ever at his own apartment anymore."

"Thank you," said Terri, hurrying to catch up to Don who was already headed to the elevator. The elevator doors were already opening, letting off a few people wo lived on the floor, and Don and Terri managed to slide through just before the doors closed. Don pressed the button for the sixth floor and waited while the car descended.

"How is Charlie dealing with Libby's death?" asked Terri, breaking the silence in the elevator.

Don shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Okay for the most part."

"Most part?"

Don furrowed his brow in frustration not sure exactly how to answer. "He seems, I don't know, too distant, like he's trying to stop it from effecting him."

"You could try talking to him?"

"I did; it didn't exactly work." The elevator doors opened promptly ending the conversation. They saw a man in a suit walking toward the elevator, and Terri stopped him.

"Can you tell us which apartment is Ivy Dillard's?"

"Last one on the right," replied the man; he brushed past them and got on the elevator.

Don and Terri walked the rest of the way down the hallway. Don knocked loudly on the door and waited.

The sounds of locks beings turned and a chain being removed could be heard, and the door slowly opened. "Can I help you?" asked the young woman on the other side of the door.

Don and Terri both showed the woman their badges. "I'm Special Agent Don Eppes and this is my partner Terri Lake. Are you Ivy Dillard?" The woman nodded. "We're looking for David Stuart, and we understand that he might be here."

"He is." She turned her head to look over her shoulder. "David, there are some people from the FBI here for you." Ivy turned back toward them looking rather nervous. "Do you want to come in?"

Don and Terri nodded, and Ivy opened all the way to allow them in.

A man, whom they assumed was David Stuart, came walking out into the living wearing a damp T-shirt and a towel hanging over one shoulder. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"My name is Don Eppes, and this is Terri Lake; we're with the FBI." David paled drastically, and Don took a deep. "There is no easy way to say this, but we believe that you are in danger."

Don wasn't sure of his words' effect on David, but the effect on Ivy was rather obvious by the dropping of her jaw and the paleness of her once tan face. "What are you talking about?" asked Ivy when David failed to come up with anything to say.

"Like I said it's not an easy thing to explain," repeated Don. "Is it possible for you to come down to the FBI offices now?"

David nodded. "Just give me a few minutes to get ready." He stood up off the couch but then turned toward Ivy. "Is she allowed to come with?"

"She can," said Don. "I'm not sure I can tell you how long this is going to take."

"That's okay," said Ivy. "I can call into work." She paused for a moment. "Why is he in danger? Who is after him?"

"That's something we can better explain down at the office," said Terri.

David nodded and Ivy stood up off the couch. "We'll be ready to go as soon as we can."

Don and Terri nodded and waited while the two got ready to go.

XVIIIIV

David stood outside Matt Depp's room trying to work up the courage to go in. Don had said that Matt hadn't talked to anyone since being taken away from the crime scene, and David wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to get through to this man.

A nurse walked out of the room carrying a clipboard and turned toward David. "You can go in, but please don't stay for very long, and DO NOT say anything to upset him. He may not be speaking, but he has thrown a few things across the room, and we do not need him under anymore stress."

"Thank you," said David nervously now even more worried about going in.

The nurse stepped aside and allowed David to enter the room. David took a deep breath and walked over to the bed. Matt was sitting up in front of a small table with a tray of food; he was staring at it, but not taking a bite of anything.

"Matt?" said David quietly, not wanting to startle the man. "Matt?"

Matt turned his head slowly toward David and blinked once but showed no emotion. He slowly turned his head back toward his food and remained silent.

"Matt, I know this has been hard on you, but if there is anything you can tell us about what happened at--" David stopped when he noticed that Matt was laughing quietly. "Matt?"

"You don't know! She's dead," Matt said quietly as his laughter began to grow louder. "I told her-ha ha- I told her she would be fine, and she's dead. Know what that makes me-ha-ha? That makes me a liar. I lied to her!"

By now, the laughter was now hysterical sobs, and David wasn't exactly sure how to deal with it. He reached out cautiously and set his hand on Matt's shaking shoulder. The nurse was going to kill for upsetting Matt.

XVIIIIV

I hope you all enjoyed and that you will review. The next chapter is written, but it needs quite a bit of tweaking and then I have to think and type chapter 21 so don't expect it for awhile. Thanx!


	20. Chapter XX

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: There is a small time lapse between Don leaving the crime scene from the hotel, and Charlie going to the school. Time goes back a little, so no, I did not screw up; I purposely made it that way. Sorry, my beta made a note about it in my last chapter, but I ignored it, and now, I screwed up. Charlie is 16 percent behind David. His percent is not 16 percent. Please review.

**Blood Relatives **

Chapter Twenty

_"Therein lies the defect of revenge: it's all in the anticipation; the thing itself is a pain, not a pleasure; at least the pain is the biggest end of it." Mark Twain_

It had been almost a week since David Stuart had been placed in protective custody, and there had not been any sign of Kade anywhere. Don couldn't help but think Kade was trying to lull them into a false sense of security.

"It's been all quiet on the home front," said Don, when he saw Terri walking into the break room. "He's planning something; he's got to be."

Terri nodded in agreement. "Kade's way too angry to have given up just because we put David in protective custody; that didn't stop him with Libby."

"Yeah," muttered Don, looking past Terri to stare blankly out the window of the break room.

"How's Charlie been handling that?"

"God only knows," muttered Don. "I've barely seen him all week with this case and him trying to finish grading all his finals; according to Dad, he just finished grading them last night, but I haven't been over there for a few days so that could or could not be true."

"Do you still have an agent watching the house?"

"Of course." Don paused and then turned around toward the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. "We've got to be ready for him; Kade is nowhere close to stopping."

"I know Charlie gave you all the percentages for the men," said Terri, "but did you ever see what his percentage was?"

Don ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Yeah. I saw it." He looked at Terri and saw that she was expecting him to continue. "He was behind David by about 16 percent, but he was still second in line." He took a deep breath and headed toward the door of the break room.

"Don?"

Don turned around and stared at Terri. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Terri; I swear, and I'll be even better once we've caught this psycho." He walked out of the break room.

XVIIIIV

A week! A whole damn week, and he was no closer to the end of this than he had been seven days ago. It wasn't that it was impossible for Kade to get to who he wanted; in fact, it would be very easy. The problem was that everything had to go absolutely perfect. He knew where the FBI was keeping David Stuart, but he didn't exactly need to get inside the hotel. He just needed to get outside.

"Tonight," thought Kade. "It all goes down tonight."

XVIIIIV

David had never thought himself to be very religious man, but sitting in a hotel room waiting for some agent to come in and say that they had caught that psycho, he found himself praying. He prayed that he would live through this so he could go home and ask Ivy to marry him, he prayed that he would be able to go home and call his dad and apologize for getting drunk at his

sister's wedding. Most of all, however, he prayed that he would live.

The cellphone of the agent who was in the room with him started ringing and startled David from his thoughts.

"Andrews," said the agents as he answered his phone. David watched as a range of emotions passed over the agent's face before finally settling on anger. "I'll be right down." There was a long pause. "Okay. Yeah. I'll stay here. No, everything up here has been fine." Andrews hung up the phone with a sigh.

"What happened?" asked David nervously.

"One of the agents watching the place was shot," replied Andrews; he saw David's face turn several shades lighter. "Don't worry though. The FBI is already here, and they're sending another agent up here."

David shook his head. "How?"

Andrews sighed. "I have no idea."

XVIIIIV

Don stared at the car wanting to throw up. His name had been Kyle Swanson, but that really didn't matter now because he was dead. One bullet right through the forehead had ended his life probably instantaneously; a look of fear permanently etched onto his face.

"How the hell?" murmured Don as he and Terri walked toward the car. As they got around to the front, Don could see the bullet hole in the windshield spreading spider web cracks across the glass.

"How did Kade do this?" asked Terri. "We had agents all over this place." She shook her head sadly when she glance at the dead agent in the driver's seat.

"Same way he did everything else," said Don. "He worked his way in somehow and then got out as fast as possible." Don finished his walk around the car and saw that Kyle Swanson had been reaching for his gun when he had been shot. Sighing loudly, Don made his way back to Terri. He was about to say something when a drop of rain hit his eye startling him; that morning the weather report had predicted the heat wave to continue with no chance of rain for at least another week.

Don's cellphone rang loudly as he and Terri were hurrying to stand underneath a awning as the rain began to come down harder. "Eppes," said Don, flipping open the phone.

There was a low laugh from the other end of the phone and then only one word. "Gotcha." The caller then hung up.

"What was that?"asked Terri, seeing the confused look on Don's face.

"It was Kade."

"What did he say?"

"Gotcha."

"Gotcha?" Terri stared at Don. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. What is he trying to do?" Don stood there for a moment trying to think like Kade which was a scary thought in itself when it hit him and hit him hard. "Oh my God. He's going after Charlie!"

XVIIIIV

Charlie was searching all over the garage for the notebook Larry had given him, but he could not find it for the life of him. "Where is it?" muttered Charlie, shifting though another pile of books.

"Where's what?" asked Alan, as he walked into the garage carrying a basket of laundry.

"Larry gave me a notebook so I could check over an equation for him, and I don't know where I put it." Charlie didn't want to mention that the problem would serve as a great distraction from the thoughts of Libby that had been drifting around his head ever since he finished grading his finals.

"Is it in the house?"

Charlie shook his head. "I already looked everywhere I could think of." He ran a hand through his hair. "I think I left it at my office." He walked out of the garage and over to where his bike was leaning against the wall.

"Where are you going, Charlie?" asked Alan, creasing his brow in confusion. Don had nearly pounded it into their heads that they shouldn't go out alone at night.

"My office."

"Why don't I give you a ride then?" said Alan, setting the basket inside the garage door; Charlie, however, shook his head.

"It'll be easier if I just bike down there and get it myself. Besides, I'm sure you have something better to do than drive me around tonight." Charlie turned toward his father and saw that he still seemed unconvinced. "I'll be fine, Dad. At most, I'll be gone an hour."

Alan sighed still feeling slightly uneasy. "Okay, but if you're gone a minute longer I swear I'm calling your brother."

Charlie gave a small chuckle even if had very little emotion. "Effective," he muttered, walking into the garage and grabbing his bag. He threw it over his shoulder and mounted his bicycle. "I'll be back."

Alan shook his head and watched Charlie ride off before walking back into the garage to start the laundry. As he inhaled deeply he caught the scent of rain in the air and shook his head. It wasn't supposed to rain, but he had felt a small temperature drop that day. If it was going to rain, he hoped Charlie would beat the storm.

XVIIIIV

The bike Kade was sitting on was stolen from the yard of one of the houses in the small Pasadena neighborhood, and he was sure the kid wouldn't notice it was missing till morning. He watched intently as his professor rode away from his house, and careful to avoid the agent in the car in the front who didn't seem to be paying too much attention, Kade followed. He had a pretty

strong feeling of where Charlie was going, but he had too make sure. Everything had to go perfect or all his hard work would be ruined.

Several times on the bike ride, Kade had to duck out of the way or pause for several minutes when Charlie checked over his shoulder or turned a corner, but somehow, Kade managed to stay successfully out of sight the entire time even when it started to rain. Yes, things were going good for him tonight.

XVIIIIV

Don was speeding toward his house with the lights of his of SUV flashing. His cellphone was pasted to his ear and he was waiting for his father to answer. "Come on," muttered Don. "Come on." He blew through a red light causing a little blue convertible to slam on its brakes which wasn't easy due to the storm; Terri was in the passenger seat holding onto the armrest for her dear life.

"Hello?" Don heard his father say on the other end of the phone.

"Dad!?"

"Donnie? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dad. Look, whatever you do, do not go outside. Lock all the doors and you and Charlie stay put until I get there."

"Oh God."

Don's heart stopped. "What Dad? Is someone there?"

"Donnie, Charlie rode his bike to his office to get something. He left about fifteen minutes ago."

Don slammed on the breaks making the car behind him break hard. "What?! What about the agent I have posted there? He was supposed to keep you and Charlie."

There was a pause and then his father's panicked. "The agent's still there."

"Fuck!" Don shouted loudly as he pulled a u-turn in the middle of the street heading toward CalSci.

"Donnie?"

"I gotta go, Dad. I've gotta call back up. I'll get him, Dad."

"Don, what's going on?! Tell me?!"

Don hung up the phone without answering his father and quickly dialed for back up. The storm that raged outside as he drove was nothing compared to the storm of emotions that raged within himself.

XVIIIIV

"It's always in the last place you look," thought Charlie as he tried his best to shake the rain water out of his hair. "Of course it would be in the last place a person looked; no one continues to look for something they've already found." Charlie chewed on this thought for a moment as he sat down at his desk and flipped through the equation-covered pages. He was so absorbed in the work he never noticed anyone slip into his room until they were standing right in front of his desk.

"Hello, Prof. Eppes," said a sickeningly familiar voice, causing his heart to stop. "I've come for my final grade."

Charlie swallowed hard and looked up at the person standing in front of his desk. Kade Hackett was glaring at him with four fading scratches across one cheek and a gun pointed at his head.

"Ka-Ka-Kade?!" Charlie managed to gasp out as he leaned back in his chair.

"It's a pleasure to see you again too," retorted Kade, never once letting the gun waver.

"It doesn't fit," muttered Charlie, staring at the gun. "I-I don't fit."

"Don't fit what?" asked Kade, cocking his head to the right slightly. "Your equation?" Charlie's eyes went wide. "Yeah. I know all about your consulting for the FBI. I knew it had to had been you who figured out Libby was next. Don't you see? You're perfect for this; not only is your brother a lead agent for the FBI, but you work for them, too. You are the perfect message.

You will make so many people know what I felt."

Charlie swallowed hard as he continued to stare at the gun that had been lowered during Kade's rant from his head to his heart. "I kno-kno-know what-t-t-t it's like to loo-loo-lose someone you love; it's terrible! Why-why would you want-t-t others to feel that?!" Charlie could feel his heart beat increase two fold, and he was pretty sure Kade could hear it.

Kade's jaw clenched tightly as he stared at Charlie. "Because!" But even as he spoke, Libby's voice started repeating something over and over in his head "You know what it's like! Why would you want to make anyone feel that?" Kade placed his hand to his head and turned away from Charlie. "Shut up!" He shouted as he hit his forehead several times. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! It has to be done! Get out of my head!" He hit his head several more times and pleaded with an invisible force. "Get her out! She won't shut up!"

Charlie watched the scene with morbid fascination before his survival instincts kicked in. He scanned his desk for something, anything he could use as a weapon. A large glass paperweight a student had given him, that Charlie had once used in a scale catapult experiment, was sitting on the corner of his desk. Charlie felt his situation brighten a bit, and he quickly snatched it.

Charlie stood up quickly and wound up his pitch. Everything Don had ever taught him about pitching in baseball Charlie put into this one throw. The glass ball went sailing through the air to where Kade was standing; the ex-student turned his head just in time to have it connect with his

forehead. The would-be killer crumpled to the floor, and Charlie made a break for the door. He only made it a few feet though before a hand grasped his ankle, and he went crashing to the floor.

Charlie flipped over as fast as he could and saw Kade looming over him with a knife. "This was not how it was supposed to be!" shouted Kade as he tried to lower the knife into Charlie's chest; any glimmer of sanity that had been left in Kade's eyes was gone. Charlie desperately grasped onto Kade's wrist and pushed the knife away from him.

Kade had the strength of a madman, and Charlie wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to last. A quick flash of pain shot across his chest, and Charlie realized that Kade was quickly gaining the advantage. With one last burst of strength, Charlie shot his wrist up and twisted. The look Kade's face quickly changed from fury to pained surprised before his collapsed onto Charlie; the knife was buried in his chest.

It took a lot of effort, but Charlie managed to slide out from underneath Kade. He desperately scooted back across his office floor having no desire to be anywhere close to Kade's body. Charlie leaned back against his desk staring only for a moment at the still form of Kade Hackett before looking down at the shallow cut on his chest. Right now, Charlie had neither the strength or the mental capacity to process what he had just done; that was a problem best saved for later.

Time seemed to have no meaning anymore, and Charlie wasn't aware of how long he had been leaning against his desk until the sound of his brother's voice hit his ear. "Charlie?"

Charlie opened his eyes and saw his brother's pale face from the doorway of his office. Charlie tried to give his big brother a reassuring smile to show he was okay, but the smile disappeared when he saw the looked of horror on his brother's face. The sound of Don shouting his name was muffled by a single gunshot and the searing pain in his chest.

XVIIIIV

After speeding into the parking lot closest to his brother's office, Don had gotten out of the car and ran at light speed down the hall of the CalSci building, but a sinking feeling in his stomach kept telling him he was going to be to late. Terri was somewhere behind him telling him to wait up between undistinguishable comments into her cellphone, but Don couldn't wait up. He

couldn't wait up because it seemed like no matter how hard he tried Charlie's office never seemed to get any close. Even as he ran down the halls, Don could still find the irony of the situation. Ever since Charlie was little he had always managed to keep the real world separate from his math

world, but now the real world had come bursting into his math world without holding anything back.

After what Don was sure was eternity itself, he reached Charlie's doorway and looked inside; his little brother sat leaned against his desk with his eyes closed and a cut on his chest bleeding slightly, but other than that he looked okay. Don couldn't say the same for Kade who looked to be dead on the floor.

"Charlie?" said Don as he took a step into the room.

His brother opened his eyes and tried to give him a smile, but Don was no longer looking at his brother; he was looking at Kade who was suddenly moving, raising a gun toward his brother. "Charlie!" shouted Don, reaching for his gun but knowing he would never be fast enough. The image of the bullet piercing his brother's chest would haunt him for years to come.

XVIIIIV

I hope this was somewhat of a twist. I was trying to make it that way. Can't say when the next chapter will be up. Please enjoy.


	21. Chapter XXI

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: I hope you enjoy the chapter. I don't know when the next one will be up. I have finals coming up. It may be quick it may be slow. It'll be a surprise for all including me. I hope you enjoy. BYES!

**Blood Relatives **

Chapter Twenty-One

_"Near death scenes are my favorite...except for when they involve me." Sarah and Reed_

He was not going down like this; Kade had promised that to himself when he started this years ago. He was not going to quit until they were all dead, and as he lay on the floor bleeding profusely from the stab wound in his chest feeling pain every time him took a breath, he knew what he had to do.

The gun he had dropped when the damn professor had thrown that paperweight had skidded across the floor and landed close to where he was now. In fact, he could feel the cool metal of the gun with his fingertips. As carefully and as quickly as he could, Kade grabbed the gun and brought it around to point directly at the professor.

Kade heard a new voice shout as he pulled the trigger, and smiled when he heard a scream of pain from the professor. He felt white hot pain flare up his back, but that didn't bother him now. He was finished, and everyone knew it. Kade slipped into the darkness with a smile on his lips.

XVIIIIV

_"This could not be happening," _was all Don could think as he pulled out his gun and fired once. Kade's body slumped to the ground as a bloodstain bloomed across his back; the gun lay just an inch away from his outstretched hand.

Don quickly dropped to his knees beside Charlie reaching out the bloodstain that was spreading across the upper right part of Charlie's chest. "Oh my God," murmured Don, looking around the office for anything he could use to staunch the blood flow. He saw a rag, that looked like Charlie used for cleaning the chalkboard, lying on Charlie's desk and grabbed it. Don pressed it against Charlie's chest and winced involuntarily when Charlie cried out in pain and started to fight against him. "It's me, Buddy!" said Don, feeling helplessness start to seep into his system. "It's Donnie." He reached out and placed his hand on Charlie's shoulder to help hold him still.

"Charlie?!" Don heard Terri shout from behind him.

Don looked back over his shoulder. "Call an ambulance!" he shouted as he turned back toward his brother.

"Paramedics are already on their way with the back-up," said Terri, kneeling down next to Don. There was a shrinking feeling in her stomach as she stared at the blood slowly seeping across Charlie's chest and pooling beneath him.

"It's not slowly down," cried Don, dejectedly, watching as the pool of blood pooled beneath their knees.

Terri furrowed her brow in frustration. "Maybe there is an exit wound. Lean him forward a little bit."

Don could almost feel every ounce of pain Charlie was as they leaned him away from the desk, and Don wanted to stop and let his brother rest even if that was the stupidest thing in the world he could do.

"N-no-no," muttered Charlie, attempting weakly to push their hands away. Don took hold of his brother's hand as gently as he could while Terri looked at his back.; Don could see, from where he was kneeling, the bullet hole in his brother's desk.

"Oh God," murmured Don quietly. He didn't notice his brother's eyes shoot up toward him when he said that.

"Is there another rag?" asked Terri desperately as she pressed her bare hand against the exit wound on Charlie's back in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

Don frantically looked around the room for anything Terri could use, but his search came up empty. Now, Don was scared to death.; before, he had been panicked, worried but still in control. However, Charlie was now bleeding from two bullet wounds, and Don couldn't do a damn thing about it but pray that the paramedics got there soon.

Don hung his head down as he fought back the tears that were pooling behind his eyes. While he was looking down, Don could see the puddle of blood was still slowly but surely growing; Terri's hand wasn't doing much to stop the wound on Charlie's back. _"Please, God,"_ Don thought praying for the first time in what felt like years. _"Please don't let my brother die."_

Don was so lost in his silent prays that he didn't really hear his brother say his name. It wasn't until the third time that Don looked up.

XVIIIIV

Charlie's chest was on fire as well as his back, and no matter what he did to try and stop them, Don and Terri wouldn't leave him alone. All he wanted to do was sleep, and neither of them seemed to want to let him do that.

Suddenly, in his pain filled mind, everything seemed to fall into place. The reality of the situation finally hit home, and fear took a tight grip on his heart. _"I'm going die."_ Charlie noticed for the first time that Don wasn't looking at him anymore.

Charlie reached up and grabbed Don's hand and weakly tried to get out his brother's name. "D-Don?" his brother didn't look up. "D-D-Don? D-Don?!"

His brother looked up, and Charlie was shocked to see tears threatening to slip down his brother's face; his voice shook as he spoke. "Hol-hold on, Buddy. Paramedics are going to be here any second."

Charlie shook his head and struggled to continue. "D-Don, I-"

"Don't talk, Buddy," ordered Don. "You just need to hold on, Charlie, for a little while more."

Charlie ignored him and continued to try and speak. "Don, I'm-I'm sorry. Tell-tell D-Dad I'm s-sorry."

"No, Buddy. Hang on. You're going to be fine."

Charlie closed his eyes for a moment as tears began to slip out the corner of his eyes; he felt terrible for having to do this to Don, but right now, Charlie was positive he wasn't going to be around to do it later. Charlie winced as he felt Terri readjusted her hand on his back; what scared him, however, was how much duller than it had been before. He could faintly hear a commotion in the room, but most of his attention was focused on his brother.

"Do-on?"

"Buddy, just hang on, the paramedics are here."

"Tell-ell Dad I-I love him." Charlie watched as a few tears escaped from Don's eyes. Charlie winced again as Don and Terri laid him back onto the floor; Don however had grasped his hand tightly as the paramedics went to work. "I-I lo-love you." That must have been the last straw for Don because suddenly a flood of tears went down his face.

As the world melted into blackness, Charlie thought he heard Don say, "I love you too, Charlie..." But Charlie wasn't sure if he had imagined it.

XVIIIIV

"I love you too, Charlie. You just need to hold on a little bit longer." Don's heart sank when he saw his brother's eyes slip shut and the weak grip on his hand go limp. "Charlie? Charlie?!" Don wished he could have leaned over and forced his brother to wake up, but now the paramedics were pushing him away from his brother, and Terri's gentle hand on his shoulder was drawing him a good five feet away from his brother.

"Let them do there job, Don," Terri said quietly into his ear; he swore he heard he voice waver a bit. "You've done all you can for him."

Don nodded solemnly and wiped the back on his hand beneath his eyes; he didn't realize he smeared blood across his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, Don could see two paramedics working on Kade; he couldn't believe it. Paramedics were actually trying to save the life of the bastard who had tried to kill his baby brother. If he had been the only one in the room, Don was pretty sure he would have shot Kade several more times.

Terri's comforting grip brought him back to reality again. "Don, they're getting ready to go."

Don looked away from Kade, although he was comforted to hear the paramedics declare Kade dead, and saw the paramedics raising the gurney holding his brother. Charlie's blood-soaked t-shirt was gone, and his chest was wrapped in layers of pressure bandages and an oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. It took all of Don's energy not for him to pass out then and there.

"Can I come with?" Don asked one of the paramedics before he could even think; he followed the paramedics out of Charlie's office.

"Don't you have to deal with that guy back there?" asked one of the paramedics.

Don wasn't looking at the paramedics; his attention was wholly on the pale face of his brother. "Back up is going to deal with it," said Don as detached as could be.

The paramedic looked over Don's head at Terri. "This is his brother," she said quietly.

"You can ride along," said the paramedic, "but you cannot get in our way."

Don nodded as the gurney burst through the doors of Charlie's building.

"I'll stay here and deal with back up. Then, I'll go and get your dad."

"Oh, God. My dad." Don turned around for a moment, but Terri pushed him forward.

"I'll explain it to him. Now go!"

Don climbed into the back of the ambulance after Charlie was loaded up, and the paramedics closed the doors. Terri was left alone in the parking lot; back up was already inside.

XVIIIIV

Now matter how many times Alan paced across the living room, it wasn't going to do any good. He still couldn't believe that Donnie had just hung up on him like that leaving him with no idea what was going on. He tried calling Don's cellphone several times, but the phone was either busy or no one answered. "Please let them be okay," Alan thought aloud. "Please just let them be okay."

He lifted the phone in his hand again to try and get a hold of Don, but a loud knocking on the door ripped his thoughts away from the phone. Almost sprinting from the living to the front door, Alan threw open the door hoping to see one or both of his sons standing in front of him. He was instead greeted by a rain-soaked Terri at the door.

"Where's Donnie?" were the first words out of Alan's mouth.

"Alan," started Terri, not knowing what to say. How was she supposed to tell this man that one of his sons was on the way to the hospital with a gunshot wound. "Alan, there's no easy way to say this-"

"Are Donnie and Charlie okay?" Alan demanded, cutting her off.

"Don's fine, physically anyway."

"And Charlie?"

"Charlie and Don are on the way to the hospital right now. Alan, Charlie got shot." Terri knew the second her words hit home. Alan's already pale face went ashen and he gripped the doorframe tightly. He noticed for the first time the large amount of blood on Terri's hands. "Are you okay Alan?"

"What hospital?" demanded Alan, closing the door behind him.

"Los Angeles Community Hospital," replied Terri, following Alan off the porch as he rushed over to the car.

"Take me there." Terri nodded and ran through the rain to the driver's side of the car.

As they both climbed into the vehicle, they were thinking the exact same thing: if one brother was lost tonight, both brothers would be gone.

XVIIIIV

Don felt as if the world was moving in slow motion, and he wished so badly he could push fast-forward to speed these paramedics up. The two bustled around his brother checking his blood pressure, his pulse, and the bandages on his back and chest, and all of these things seemed pointless to Don.

He sat on the side with his hands clasped together tightly silently saying over and over in his end. _"Please don't die, Buddy. Please don't die."_ It wasn't until he heard the heart monitor connected to his brother flat-line, and a paramedic shout, "We're losing him!" that Don stopped the mantra.

"Buddy?" murmured Don quietly. "Buddy?" He tried to stand up and go over to his brother, but the paramedic pushed him back onto his seat.

"Stay back, sir,"said the paramedic forcefully.

Don could only watch in horror as the paramedics tried to bring his brother back with the defibrillator and pray for the hundredth time in the last hour. "Please come back, please come back, please come back." Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized he knew exactly what Aaron felt those eight months ago.

Over his mantra, Don heard the most beautiful sound in the world; a beep from the heart monitor. The second was even more beautiful, and the third sounded like a choir of angels. "Thank you," murmured Don over and over. "Thank you." He stared his brother's face hoping the heart beats would last.

XVIIIIV

The sounds of stressed out families and crying children fell on the deaf ears of Alan as he and Don sat in the ER waiting room. Alan hated hospitals more than hated any other place in the world. He would rather spend a week in a DMV than an hour in the hospital for two reasons. One, hospitals meant bad news, and two, hospitals meant death. Beside him, Don was hunched over in his chair with Terri sitting on the arm of the chair gently rubbing his back.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Don said for the fifth time since Alan and Terri had arrived at the hospital; Alan didn't envy the twenty minutes Don had to sit in the waiting room by himself.

"Donnie, this is not your fault," Alan replied again. "You did everything you could."

Don sighed; he hated that reply. If he had done everything he could, then Charlie wouldn't be in the emergency room. Don shook his head fighting back the urge to cry. He was already breaking down, he didn't need to cry again, too. "I was standing right there, Dad. I-I was standing right in the doorway to Charlie's office. I could see Kade, I could see Charlie, and I didn't do anything. I sh-should have got my gun out faster, I-I should have realized what Kade was up to, I should have ma-made Charlie stay home some how. I know there has to be something I could have done."

Alan put his arms around Don's shoulders and pulled his son in a loose embrace. "This was not you fault, Donnie," Alan murmured quietly into Don's ear. "What would have happened if you didn't show up to CalSci when you did?"

Don shrugged his shoulders, his ultimate sign of defeat. "He would have died," muttered Don.

Alan turned to Terri, and she nodded sadly. "You saved Charlie's life, Don," said Alan. Terri began to rub Don's back again."

"Not if he dies here," mumbled Don dejectedly.

Alan gritted his teeth, and his tone turned almost menacing. "That won't happen, Donnie. That won't happen."

XVIIIIV

Alan wasn't sure how long he sat in the chair with Don leaning against him while Terri kept a comforting hand on his son's shoulders, but he did know it was long enough for his arm to fall asleep. As carefully as he could, Alan shifted Don's weight a bit to give his arm a chance to wake up, but the shift was enough for Don to sit up all the way and lean back in his own chair.

"Are you okay?" asked Alan, putting his hand on his son's shoulder.

"I'll be okay when I know Charlie is," was all Don said back.

Alan opened his mouth to reply but closed it when an older looking man in a white lab coat came walking over to them.

"Are you here for a Mr. Charles Eppes?" asked the doctor, taking in their appearance carefully. Alan knew the blood on both Terri and Don probably threw the man off.

"Yeah," replied Alan, nodding his head numerous times. "Yes, I'm his father and this is my son Don."

The doctor turned to Terri. "You are, ma'am?"

Before Terri could reply, Alan answered for her. "His sister."

The doctor shrugged his shoulders and then continued speaking. "I'm Doctor Jack Skelling. I've been handling your son's case since he was brought in, and I've got to say your son is a very lucky man." Alan let out a huge sigh of relief, and he felt Don relax in the chair next to him. "Don't get me wrong," said the doctor, "he's not out of the woods yet. His body has had some terrible trauma. The bullet managed to pass straight through with doing any major damage."

"But," started Don, "in the ambulance, he-he stopped..."

"I know," said Dr. Skelling. "His heart couldn't take pumping such a little amount of blood. We've given him several blood transfusions, and he was in surgery to repair the damage the bullet did do. Right now, he's in the recovery room. Afterwards, we're moving him to a room in the ICU for the next twenty-four hours. If everything goes okay and there's no more complications, we'll move him to a normal room for the rest of his stay. In my personal opinion, I see no reason why your son won't make a complete recovery."

"Thank God," muttered Alan; Don was unusually quiet. "Can we see him?"

"Only one person is allowed in the recovery room," said Dr. Skelling. "Once you decide who's going, I can take you up there."

"You go," Don said quietly to his father. "You should go."

Alan's brow creased in confusion, and he stared at his son. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," said Don, standing up slowly. "I need to go get some air. You should go see him."

"Alright," said Alan. He stood up also and pulled his son into a hug. "I'll be back soon."

After the doctor and Alan had walked away, Terri turned toward Don. "Are you alright?"

Don took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. He nodded slowly, and Terri was pretty sure she could hear him laughing. "Don?" she said quietly, placing her hand on his shoulder. It was good timing because at that moment the laughter turned to tears, and Don's legs suddenly gave out nearly knocking Terri down. She struggled to get Don into a chair and told the hospital staff to step back when they all rushed over.

"He's gonna make it," muttered Don over and over. "He's gonna make it."

Terri put her arms around Don's shoulders and held him as his last emotional barrier broke Don and the entire day hit him full force.

XVIIIIV

Alan's breath lodged in his throat when he saw his youngest son's prone form in the hospital bed. It took him a moment to get his bearings back, and he was barely aware of Dr. Skelling saying he'd let them have some privacy. Alan walked over to the side of Charlie's bed and picked up his son's hand careful to avoid the IV. If a person just took a brief glance at him, Charlie looked okay. It wasn't until he got close to the bed that Alan realized that Charlie was deathly pale, and he knew that beneath those blankets, Charlie's torso was most like wrapped in bandages.

"Oh, Charlie," murmured Alan, using his free hand to run his fingers through Charlie's hair. "I always though you had the safe job. I worry about your brother; I never thought I'd have to worry about you."

Alan wiped beneath his eyes as he began to cry; earlier he had to be strung for Don, but now there was no one there to be strong for. "Charlie, I know you can't hear, but you and your brother can't do these types of things to me. I can't lose either one of you; I can't. Charlie, that'll kill me."

Alan ran his hand through Charlie's hair again and sat down in a chair that was sitting close to the bed. This had been the longest night of his entire life.

XVIIIIV

Sorry for the shortness of this chapter I hope you enjoy. Please review.


	22. Chapter XXII

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: After this chapter, there is one more and then Blood Relatives will officially be finished (Can you believe it. I can't.) Thanks again to my Beta Dre. The song I use in this chapter is Drive by Incubus. I hope you enjoy. Please review.

**Blood Relatives**

Chapter Twenty-Two

_"Elizabeth Pauline Fields_

_Beloved daughter and sister_

_June 1986 - May 2005_

_You brought music to our ears and hope into our hearts"_

Charlie wasn't sure how many times he read the inscription across the dark marble stone, somewhere in the hundreds most likely, but each time he read it seemed more painful than the last. "I'm sorry," Charlie murmured quietly to no one in particular.

_Sometimes I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear_

_And I cant help but ask myself how much _

_I'll let the fear take the wheel and steer _

It took him forever to convince his father to drive him out here. During his stay at the hospital, a very long week of Charlie's life, Libby's funeral had taken place, and Charlie couldn't help but feel guilty about not going. Two days after getting home from the hospital, Charlie begged Alan to take him out to the cemetery.

_Charlie was laying on the couch and flipping through the TV channels; Alan was too nervous to let him stay up in his own room. His hospital stay had been far too long for his taste not to mention that Alan and Don had been babying him constantly while he was there. The straw that broke the camel's back was when Charlie heard about Libby's funeral. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but he wanted to go so bad if only to make himself feel a little bit better._

_"Charlie, do you want something to eat?" asked Alan, poking his head into the living room to check on his son._

_"No, Dad," muttered Charlie, changing the channel again. "I'm not hungry right now."_

_"Are you sure, Charlie?" Charlie nodded. "Are you feeling okay?"_

_"Yeah." _

_"Alright," said Alan not convinced at all. He started walking out of the room._

_Charlie turned away from the television and toward his father. "Dad?"_

_Alan turned around quickly. "Yeah?"_

_"Do you know what cemetery Libby was buried in?" asked Charlie quietly._

_"Yes. I think I do."_

_"Can you drive me there?"_

_"What?"_

_Charlie sat up slowly and grabbed the shoes that were lying near the coach. "I want to go see Libby's grave," replied Charlie as he began to put his shoes on._

_"Charlie, maybe you should wait a few days before you go out there. The doctor said you should rest for at least a week." Alan ran a hand through his hair nervously._

_Charlie shook his head. "Dad, please. I need to do this."_

_Alan stood there for a moment looking directly into his son's eyes. With a defeated sigh, Alan said, "I'll get my keys."_

"I tried," murmured Charlie quietly. "I thought everything was going to work. Then everything stopped making any sense. I wasn't supposed to be a target; that math just doesn't work. You were supposed to be fine; you were supposed to be safe."

Charlie stopped talking and slowly sat down onto the grass next to the grave; his chest was beginning to ache, and he needed to sit down. He closed his eyes for a moment and listened to the sounds of the cemetery for a moment. The wind whistled through the trees, and he could here birds chirping in the distance.

_It's driven me before, _

_it seems to have a vague_

_Haunting mass appeal_

_Lately I'm beginning to find that I should be the one behind the wheel_

"You're going to get you pants dirty," said a voice behind him.

Charlie turned around quickly and then hissed in pain; some of his stitches had pulled slightly.

"You alright?" asked the owner of the voice; it was a heavy-set black man wearing a festive looking red and yellow sweater. He was carrying a bouquet of yellow roses in one hand and a sheet of music in the other.

"Yeah," replied Charlie with a nod.

"It rained again last night," said the man. "Seems like that's all its been doing since last week. You're going to mud on your jeans."

Charlie looked down at the grass and then slowly got to his feet. "Did you know her?" asked Charlie quietly, watching as the man put the flowers and the music next to the grave.

_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there _

_With open arms and open eyes yeah _

_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there, I'll be there _

_So if I decide to waiver my chance to be one of the hive _

_Will I choose water over wine and hold my own and drive_

The man laughed quietly. "I don't think anyone really knew Libby. You could know the person Libby put out there for everyone to see, but that girl didn't let anyone close to who she really was. I think she was scared that they wouldn't like who they met." He turned away from the grave and extended his hand to Charlie. "I'm Norman Williams. I was in a choir with Libby."

"Charlie Eppes," replied Charlie, shaking Norman's hand.

Norman waited for a few seconds but was quick to catch on that Charlie didn't want to say anything more. "If you don't mind me asking," said Norman, "how did you meet Libby?" He studied him for a moment. "Was she going to a community college or something? Are you a student?"

Charlie laughed and then winced when his stitches pulled again. Norman noticed but didn't say anything; he learned a long time ago that people normally explain things when they were ready and pushing them was not always the best idea.

"I'm a professor at CalSci," replied Charlie. "I teach math."

_It's driven me before, it seems to be the way_

_That everyone else get around_

_Lately, I'm beginning to find that when I drive myself, my light is found_

"I take it you didn't have Libby then," said Norman. He studied Charlie for a moment. "You don't look old enough to be a professor."

"I get that a lot," muttered Charlie. "What was she like?" Norman stared at him for a moment a little confused. "I only got to talk to her twice."

"She was very nice, never as sure of herself as she could be, and she always felt guilty."

"Why?"

"For being alive and putting her family through what she did." Norman paused for a moment. "She never told me that, but if you spend enough time with a person, them not telling you anything tells you a whole hell of a lot more."

Norman continued speaking, but Charlie had began to drift out. He sat down on the grass again and rested his head in his hands. "Are you okay?" asked Norman, kneeling down next to him.

"Yeah," replied Charlie. "I was in an accident about a week ago, and I'm a little tired."

"Oh," said Norman. A woman's voice called from across the cemetery, and both Charlie and Norman turned toward it.

"That's my wife," said Norman, waving to the petite middle-aged woman. "I've got to go; my daughter has a piano recital this afternoon. Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine," said Charlie. "Thanks."

"No problem." Norman waved good-bye and walked back across the cemetery.

_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there _

_With open arms and open eyes yeah _

_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there, I'll be there_

Charlie waved back and then turned toward the gravestone again as if it could answer the question he hadn't gotten a chance to ask Norman. After another few minutes, Charlie slowly got back to his feet and decided to head back to where his father had parked the car. Before he walked away, he turned back to the grave and muttered quietly, "Before all this started, I thought I understood a lot. Now, I don't think I get anything at all."

_Would you choose water over wine _

_Hold the wheel and drive _

_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there _

_With open arms and open eyes yeah _

_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there, I'll be there_

XVIIIIV

I hope you enjoyed. Once again, please review.


	23. Chapter XXIII

Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: Can you all believe it? Barely under two years and 23 chapters later and Blood Relatives is finally finished. I'm happy yet at the same time I'm sad. What else am I supposed to do in my free time? I hope you all enjoyed. I'd like to thank my beta Dre for sticking with me and my odd posting schedule and for always reading my insanely long or short chapters. Thanks to all those who have stuck with this story and prayed there would someday be an ending. Please read and review. Roth out. BYES!

**Blood Relatives**

Chapter Twenty-Three

_"Accept that all of us can be hurt, that all of us can--and surely will at times--fail. I think we should follow a simple rule: if we can take the worst, take the risk." Dr. Joyce_

_"One week,"_ thought Don as he walked toward the door of Charlie's house. _"One week Charlie was in the hospital." _It had all gone by in a blur for Don thanks to the trips between the office and the hospital. He barely saw his apartment that week, and Don was almost positive his father only left the hospital to shower and then went right back.

"Hello?" said Don loudly as he walked in the front door. "Dad? Charlie?"

"In here, Donnie!" shouted Alan from the kitchen. Don walked through the house, casting a quick glance in the living room and seeing Charlie asleep on the couch with the television on, and stepped into the kitchen. Alan was sitting at the table reading the newspaper.

"Hi, Donnie. How are you?"

"Uhh...good, Dad," replied Don, taking a seat the table. "How's Charlie doing?"

Alan sighed and put down his newspaper. "Good, for the most part. He's pretty worn out today though."

"Why?"

"He wanted to go out to the cemetery today to see Libby's grave," replied Alan cautiously.

"And you took him?! Come on, Dad! He just got out of the hospital."

"What would you have liked me to have done? He's a grown man, Don; he can make his own decisions, and as hard as I tried, I couldn't convince him not to go!"

Both Alan and Don fell silent for a few minutes, giving each other a chance to calm down.

"I'm sorry," said Don, after taking a deep breath. "I'm just worried about him."

"So am I, Donnie, but we can't force him to get better, and we can't baby him and make his decisions for him. All we can do is try and help him deal with all this."

Don thought about his father's words for a few minutes. "What happened at the cemetery?"

"Nothing really," answered Alan. "I drove Charlie out there, we found Libby's grave, Charlie asked to be alone, and I went back to the car and waited for him. He came back about ten minutes later, and we came home. He's been sleeping on the couch since we got back."

"How was he after he came back from the grave?" asked Don, determined to get every detail he could from his father.

"The same way he's been since he left the hospital: tired. I keep trying to get him to rest, but he seems bound and determined to work somehow. Earlier this morning he was working on a problem for Larry, and yesterday, I caught him cleaning up the living room. He said 'all the clutter was bothering him.' Now, he takes an interest in keeping his house clean."

Don nodded as he smiled at his father's comment. "I think I'm going to go in there and talk to him," said Don as he started to stand up.

"Don't you dare! This is the first restful sleep he's gotten since he came home, and I don't want to spend another hour trying to convince him to rest again."

"Is he not sleeping well at night?" Don slowly sat back down and stared at his father.

Alan shook his head. "I heard him tossing and turning all night. There's something else bothering him, but I can't get him to open up, and I don't want to push him." Don nodded but remained silent. With a sigh, Alan stood up from the table and walked over to the fridge. "Are you hungry, Donnie? I was going to make spaghetti for supper tonight."

"Yeah, Dad. I'm kinda hungry."

Alan nodded and began to pull a few items out of the fridge. While he was busy, Don got up and walked into the living room. He sat down in the chair closest to the couch and stared at his brother for a moment. Charlie's back was turned toward the television, and his face was pressing against the back of the couch. His breath was even, and Don assumed he was still asleep. He reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the remote. The TV was on some weird documentary on the History Channel, and Don would much rather be watching a baseball game.

After flipping the channel, Don was scared out of his mind by Charlie's voice. "I was listening to that."

Don nearly jumped out of the chair, and he quickly turned toward his brother. "Christ, Charlie. You scared the shit out of me."

Charlie slowly rolled over and looked at Don. "Sorry."

"Dad said you were asleep."

"You woke me up when you came in the door. You were shouting loud." Charlie struggled for a moment but managed to get into a sitting position. "What's up?" asked Charlie through a large yawn.

"Not much," replied Don. "We've just been trying to finish up a few cases at the office." There was a pause as Don ran a hand though his hair, and Charlie rubbed his eyes in an effort to wake himself up. "I heard you went to see Libby's grave today," Don said as nonchalantly as possible.

Charlie stopped in the middle of a stretch and looked toward his brother. "You and Dad have been talking about me, haven't you?"

Don studied his brother's face for a moment to see was type of response would be best. Charlie looked annoyed and tried, and Don thought the truth in the most condensed version possible would be best. "We're worried about you, Buddy. You've barely talked to us at all about what happened."

"You know what happened, Don; you were there. I'm sure you told Dad. He wouldn't let you get away with not telling him, so I don't really see any need to talk about what happened!" Charlie seemed to be exhausted by the end of his rant, and he leaned back against the top of the couch. He was breathing heavily, and Don stared at him completely worried.

"Are you okay, Charlie?" asked Don, getting out of his chair and placing his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"I'm fine, Don." Charlie pushed away his brother's hand and slowly got up off the couch. Don could tell Charlie's chest was bothering him by the way he moved so that his torso moved the least.

"Does your chest hurt?" asked Don, following his brother out of the living room. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Don. I think I kinda wore myself out today." He started up the stairs. "I'm going to bed. Tell Dad I don't want supper please."

Don watched his brother disappear at the top of the stairs and then walked dejectedly into the kitchen and sat down.

"I told you not to wake him up," said Alan, matter of factly as he dropped spaghetti noodles into a pot of boiling water.

"He was already awake." Don leaned forward and rested his head in his hand.

"He'll talk to us when he's ready, Donnie. But as much as we want to help him and as much as we want him to get over this, some of this he has to deal with on his own. We'll be there when he needs us, Donnie. Trust me."

Don sighed and nodded his head as he ran a hand down his face. "I know, Dad, and I do. I just hate seeing him like this."

"I know what you mean," muttered Alan sadly. "I know what you mean."

XVIIIIV

_Charlie didn't know where he was, but he wished to God that he could leave. The air that blew against him was freezing and making his eyes water. He could distantly hear rain pounding on a building, and there seemed to be a fag drifting around and swirling around his feet. Slowly, a hallway began to form in front of his eyes, and Charlie tentatively started down it. The farther he got down the hallway the more Charlie could hear of another noise; it was the sound of chirping birds._

_Charlie finally reached the end of the hallway and found a door that looked a lot like the door to his office. Charlie could hear the birds loudest of all now, and he knew they were on the other side of that door. He took a deep breath, set his hand on the knob, and threw it open._

_It opened up into the library that Libby had taken him to, but it looked like it had been taken over by a horror movie. On the other side of the library, Charlie could vaguely see a glass aviary with a thin figure sitting hunched in front of it. Charlie started toward the figure, but the second he stepped into the room, rain started pouring down. He sprinted across the library to get out of the rain as fast as possible and over to the figure._

_"My God," muttered Charlie as rain dripped down his face and obscured his vision. At first, he wasn't even sure he was seeing straight. "Libby?"_

_The figure turned her head, and Charlie gasped when he got his first full look at the figure. It was indeed Libby, but not the Libby he had talked to in the library a few weeks before. This was a different Libby; this was a scary Libby. Across her right cheek were several deep and bleeding scratches, and her once green eyes were black._

_"They're fighting," said Scary Libby, sounding a lot like a sulking child. "They're not supposed to fight."_

_"Who?" asked Charlie, nearly yelling to get his voice above the wind and birds._

_"The birds."_

_Charlie turned his head and saw that all the birds in the glass aviary were fighting one another. A few lay at the bottom not moving, and several were fighting in mid air with feathers flying. It almost made Charlie want to throw up seeing the animals the young woman had cared so much about killing each other._

_"Why are they fighting?"asked Charlie, finally turning his head away. The rain started pounding harder, and the sound of the birds grew louder._

_"They're mad," replied Scary Libby, angrily. The child like sound to her voice was still there. "At you."_

_Charlie's stomach dropped, and he backed away from the girl and the aviary. "Why?"_

_Scary Libby got up from her sitting position and turned toward Charlie. The rain water was making the blood run down her face and neck, and she truly looked demonic. "Because you lied!" shouted Libby as she lunged forward arms extended as if to strangle Charlie._

With a deep intake of breath, Charlie sat up in his bed and immediately grabbed his chest. The sudden movement pulled some of the stitches and stung badly. Sighing loudly, Charlie slowly got out of bed and went downstairs.

Charlie grabbed the remote off the coffee table and sat down on the couch. He flipped on the television and settled back watching earlier morning infomercials. He wasn't sure he was ever going to get a worthwhile sleep again.

XVIIIIV

Alan looked into the living room and saw his son sitting on the couch once again working on Larry's equation and sighed. When he had woken up that morning, Alan had found his son watching TV on the couch; it was clear he hadn't slept much the night before. Alan was beginning to worry more and more and was even considering talking Charlie into therapy.

"Charlie," said Alan, leaning against the doorway to the living room, "I'm going to the store. You gonna be okay on your own?"

"Yeah, Dad," replied Charlie, not even bothering to look up from the equation. "See you when you get back."

Alan sighed and headed out the front door, praying Charlie would get better soon.

Charlie continued staring at the notebook, but he couldn't keep his mind on the problem. There were so many thoughts running through his head, and he wasn't able to think at all about the equation. _"I need to clear my head,"_ thought Charlie as he ran his hand down his face. He set the notebook off to the side on the couch and slowly stood up. Pulling on some shoes as he walked out the back door, Charlie spotted his bicycle leaning against the garage, Don must have brought it home from CalSci, and hurried towards it.

Charlie carefully got onto the bike and rode down the driveway. He was sure there was only one place in the world that would help him clear his head.

XVIIIIV

The frantic phone call from his father had scared Don out of his mind. _"Donnie, I came home from the store, and Charlie was gone. He was here when I left; he was working on an equation. When I got back, he wasn't here. His bike is gone, Donnie, but I don't know where he went."_ Don promised he would find him and then spent the next twenty minutes calling everyone he could think of who might know where Charlie was. It wasn't until he called David that he got a break. Matt had told David about the library they had followed Libby to.

It took Don forever to find the library, but when he did, he was sure it was the right one. He saw Charlie's bike parked in the rack out front. _"Great," _thought Don bitterly. _"He's only been out of the hospital a week and half, and he's thinks he's okay enough to go bike riding."_ He shook his head as he grabbed the library door and walked in. The atmosphere changed immediately; it was cooler and darker than outside and a lot quieter. People mulled about reading or carrying books, and some talked quietly to their companions.

Don hurried up to the woman sitting at the information desk near the door. "Excuse me," said Don quietly; the woman looked up from her computer. "Can you tell me if a pale man with curly, black hair walked in recently?"

The woman stared at him for a moment and then pointed to the stairs near a group of tables. "He went up those stairs. He was breathing kind of hard. That's the only reason I noticed him." He nodded and walked across the library to the stairs. Rushing up them, Don looked around for his brother. He looked around the second floor after he reached the top, but didn't see Charlie anywhere. Don was about to go back down the stairs when a head of dark curly hair caught his eye. He turned quickly and saw Charlie sitting in front of a large glass case that housed birds.

Letting out a sigh of relief, the elder Eppes hurried over to his brother. "Charlie!" said Don loudly; he received several shushes from library goers. His brother looked up at him, eyes glassy, and then turned back to the birds. "Charlie, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be resting."

Charlie hung his head. "I needed to think," he replied quietly, running his hand through his hair. "Clear my head." He looked back to the birds watching a bright green one fly into a nest in the corner.

"You need to get home and rest, Charlie," said Don. "I can't believe you rode your bike here. Are you crazy?!" Another shush.

Charlie remained quite for several minutes causing Don to worry, but he finally opened his mouth to say something. "Libby took me here; she liked those birds." He pointed to the glass cage.

Don looked over his shoulder at the case and then back at his brother. "Birds, Charlie?" said Don with a shrug of his shoulders.

Charlie leaned forward still watching the birds intently, studying them. Don sighed when he realized this was going to take longer than he had hoped and grabbed a chair. He pulled it over to his brother and sat down next to him.

"What's going on, Charlie?"

"We were supposed to protect her," replied Charlie. "I had the answer. I told her everything would be okay."

"Kade was smart, Charlie. You know that. There was only one way he was giving up."

"He had to die." Charlie leaned back and crossed his arms. "Libby said something when we were here, and now, I can't get it out of my head!"

"What?"

"She was talking about the birds. She said they all got along even though they were different. They didn't care. There's no violence, no hatred, no problems. They don't try and kill each other; they just live."

Don watched the animals now. "People aren't like these birds, Charlie. There are problems and violence in our world."

"I know that, Don," said Charlie angrily turning toward his brother, perhaps really seeing him for the first time since he had arrived. "Trust me, I know that."

"Sorry." Don sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Charlie, when I was in Albuquerque I was working a case that involved a large drug ring. All through the case, I kept noticing that evidence was disappearing. I finally ended up confronting one of my agents about it, a young guy named William Sloan. He was the one doing it alright. Do you know why he did it, Charlie?"

"No," replied Charlie, shaking his head, "and I don't see your point either."

"He stole it, Charlie, because he needed money to help his sick sister. The drug lord was paying him to make sure there was never enough evidence to convict him."

"Still not seeing the point." Don could tell Charlie was beginning to get annoyed.

"The point is Charlie: the real world is harsh and people will do drastic things to get what they need and want. When things aren't handed to them, they get desperate, and when the things they are used to are ripped away, they get even more desperate to set things right."

"Are you condoning what Kade did?"

"No, Charlie. Never. Let me put it this way: if you were take away the food or water or home from those birds, and they'll get desperate too. They wouldn't live together happily anymore."

Charlie shook his head and rubbed his forehead. "I don't think I like that image." Charlie stood up from the chair and walked over to the aviary. The birds all flew away from the glass when he stepped close.

"Buddy?" asked Don quietly.

"I want to go home, Don," muttered Charlie, rubbing his sore stitches lightly. "I can't be here anymore. Can you drive me home?"

"Sure, Buddy. Let's go."

Don and Charlie descended the stairs and excited the library just as it started to rain again for the third time that week. Don didn't noticed Charlie tense up slightly when the rain started to come down harder; he was too busy trying to get Charlie's bike into the back as quick as possible.

"Ready?" asked Don, getting into the driver's seat; Charlie was already on the passenger's side.

"Yeah."

Don started the car and pulled away. Charlie closed his eyes as his brother drove, trying his best to ignore the sound of the rain.

XVIIIIV

Another week went by and things slowly seemed to be getting better for Charlie. After the incident at the library, Charlie had opened up a bit about the conversation he had with Libby and his feelings about the entire situation, but Don and Alan could both tell Charlie was still holding things back.

Don was driving back from the office ready for a night of relaxation at his apartment when his cellphone started ringing. Reaching for it, Don prayed it was not a call that would mean he would have to turn around and go back to the office. The caller ID showed that it was from his father, and Don quickly answered it.

"Hey, Dad," said Don, resting the phone between his shoulder. "What's up?"

"Don, I've got some bad news."

"What?" asked Don nervously; he instantly thought there was something wrong with Charlie.

"You remember Tom Jenkins, my friend from college?"

"Yeah," replied Don.

"He moved to Sacramento a few years ago, and his wife just died. I've got to fly there as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry, Dad. I hope he's okay."

"Thanks, Don. I hope he is too. Look, I know Charlie's been doing better lately and everything, but I don't want to leave him alone yet. Can you stay over at the house for a day or two?"

"Sure, Dad," replied Don, understanding exactly what his father was saying. "When are you leaving?"

"Tonight," replied Alan. "I got the first flight to Sacramento I could. I can't thank you enough, Donnie."

"It's no problem, Dad. I'll be there as soon as I can. I just need to stop by my apartment real quick."

"Alright. I'll see you in a little while. Good-bye."

"Bye." Don hung up the phone and headed back toward his apartment.

XVIIIIV

Charlie turned away from the chalkboard in the garage and stared out the window. The sky was cloudy, and he knew, thanks to the weather that morning, that before long that it was going to start pouring down rain. "Great," muttered Charlie with a shudder, "another fucking rainstorm." He didn't want to tell his father or Don that rain seemed to petrify him now no matter how hard he tried to ignore or think about other things.

Charlie knew the exact reason why the rain now scared him; it was about the only thing he could vividly remember from the night Kade attacked him. The words that went on between him and Kade now seemed vague and distant, and he still wasn't sure what happened with Don other than him trying to stop the bleeding, but the sound of the pouring rain was constant throughout the entire thing. It now scared Charlie half to death every time it rained because it brought back memories of that night. How could he tell his father or his brother that he was a grown man afraid of the rain?

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, and Charlie dropped the piece of chalk in his hand. "Sorry, Charlie," said Alan surprised by his son's reaction. "I just came out here to tell you I'm about ready to leave." He studied his son's face for a moment. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," muttered Charlie. "You just startled me." He knelt down and picked up the now broken piece of chalk. "Tell Tom I'm really sorry about his wife."

"I will, Charlie." Alan paused for a moment. "Your brother's gonna be here pretty soon."

"Don?" said Charlie. "Why's he coming over?" Then it dawned on him. "Dad, I don't need a baby-sitter!"

"Humor your old man," said Alan. "Besides, he's not going to be a baby-sitter. You ever think maybe he just wants to spend some time with his brother."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Alan sighed and then pulled his son into a hug. "I'll be back in a few days, Charlie. Okay?"

Charlie hugged his father back and nodded. "I'll see you then."

"You gonna stay out here?" asked Alan as he let go of his son.

Charlie looked out at the sky and saw that it had grown darker in just a short amount of time. "No," replied Charlie. "I'm done out here. I'm going in." He set the pieces of the broken chalk on an old desk and followed his father back into the house.

Just as they entered the house, Don was walking into the kitchen. "Hey, Dad. I thought you have left for the airport already."

"I'm on my way out now," replied Alan. "I'll see you both in a few days." He gave Don quick hug good-bye before heading out the back door and left for the airport.

Charlie let out a deep sigh and walked into the living room. "You okay, Charlie?" asked Don as he followed his brother into the room.

"I'm fine," replied Charlie, sitting down on the couch. "I've just got a lot on my mind."

Don studied his brother, but finally accepted his answer. "I was thinking of ordering a pizza. What do you think?"

"Sure," replied Charlie. "Sounds good."

"How 'bout we order a Hawaiian. It's still your favorite, right?"

"Yeah."

Don shook his head and went back into the kitchen to order the pizza.

Charlie pulled his feet back on the couch and looked out the window in the living room. It was just beginning to rain. Charlie turned on the television trying to ignore the incoming storm.

XVIIIIV

Later that night, long after the pizza had been devoured, Don and Charlie sat in the living room watching an old sci-fi movie on TV. The movie was the stereotypical B rated sci-fi movie complete with crappy sets, pour acting, and constant rain as a backdrop, but it was entertaining if only from a comedy point of view. All through the movie, Don couldn't help but notice Charlie's odd demeanor; he wasn't focusing too much on the movie, and his eyes kept darting toward the windows. Don even noticed that once during movie, Charlie jumped at the sound of thunder. It wasn't even from the storm outside; it was off the movie.

"Charlie?" said Don, muting the television and studying his brother for a moment. "Are you alright?"

Charlie looked from his brother, to the movie, to the window, and then to his brother again. "I'm...I'm..." His answer never came out; the lights in the house flickered once and then went completely out. "Oh God," Don heard his brother murmur from over on the couch. "Oh God."

"Call down, Charlie," said Don as he slowly got out of the chair he was sitting. His leg hit the coffee table, and Don hissed in pain. "I'm sure the storm just knocked the power out," said Don though gritted teeth.

Charlie didn't reply. "Buddy?"

"I'm...I'm fine, Don."

"Okay," said Don, slightly confused. "Charlie, where do you and Dad keep the flashlights?"

"Utility drawer in the kitchen," replied Charlie quietly.

"Alright. I'm gonna go grab a flashlight, and then you and I need to find the circuit breaker in the basement."

"Okay." Don couldn't help but notice how unsure his brother sounded. He walked into the kitchen and searched blindly for the utility drawer. A brief flash of lightening helped Don find it faster, and he pulled open the drawer quickly and found the small Maglite his father kept there for emergencies.

"Come on, Charlie!" Don shouted into the living room. He waited for a moment listening for his brother's movements wondering why he hadn't gotten off the couch yet. "Charlie?"

"I'm coming," Charlie said quietly. Don could hear him getting off the couch and then could barely make out his outline in the doorway. Don flipped on the flashlight and nearly blinded his brother.

Charlie threw his hand in front of his eyes. "Hey!"

"Sorry," said Don with a laugh. "You ready?"

Charlie nodded and then both headed down to the basement. With a little help from Charlie, Don found the circuit breaker, but didn't have any luck getting the lights. "Looks like we're going to be in the dark for awhile."

"Great," muttered Charlie. "Just great."

There was a flash of lightening and then a crack of thunder, and Don was shocked by his brother actually screaming. "Charlie?" said Don, quickly turning the flashlight toward his brother. "Are you okay?"

His brother's pale face was illuminated by the beam, and Don watched as his brother slowly turn around and stumbled back up the stairs. "Charlie, are you okay?" Don asked again as he followed Charlie up the stairs. "Charlie?"

His brother still didn't respond. He walked through the darkened house and into the living room. Don watched as his brother sat down and pulled his legs up onto the couch. "Charlie?" asked Don, now very worried about his brother. "Are you okay?" The beam of the flashlight revealed that his brother's shoulders were shaking badly.

"I can't stand the rain," muttered Charlie.

"The rain?"

Charlie laughed; it was hollow sounding and sad. "It scares me. I'm a grown man who's scared of the rain. Sad, huh?"

"Charlie?" said Don, sitting down next to his brother. "Why?"

"I don't remember much about the night Kade attacked me," said Charlie. "I don't really remember what he said to me, and I don't remember much after you got there. I just kinda remember pain and little bit of what you said to me."

Don heart fell a little bit when Charlie said that, but he continued to listen.

"All I really remember clearly is the sound of the storm. Now, every time it rains I keep getting flashes and memories of that night. It scares me, and I feel like an idiot because of it."

Don set his arm around the shoulders of his brother. "You're not an idiot. This is normal."

"Yeah right. You ever been afraid of the rain?"

"No," said Don, "but the after first time I was shot, every time I heard a loud bang of any kind I nearly freaked out. I was in a restaurant about two weeks after it happened, and a busboy dropped a tub of dirty dishes. I dove under the table like a madman; it took me nearly an hour to get my heart rate back to normal." Don was relieved when he heard his brother give a small laugh.

"But Don I'm a grown man who's afraid of the rain. What does that make me? A coward, that's what."

"No, it makes you human. It makes you a man who went though something terrible and is slowly recovering from it." His brother was silent for a few minutes, and Don struggled to think of what his brother could possibly be thinking.

"She died," said Charlie.

"What?"

"Libby. I told her everything would be okay, and she was killed."

"Charlie, her death was in no way, shape, or form your fault."

"Then why do I feel so guilty about her death, but I don't feel anything for Kade."

"Kade?"

"I killed him, Don. When he attacked me, I fought back, and I stabbed him with the knife he brought. I killed my own student, Don, and I don't feel a thing for him." Charlie moved away from his brother, put his feet on the floor, and rested his elbows on his knees.

Don stared at his brother completely shocked amazed at how long Charlie had been keeping this to himself. Setting his head on his brother's back, Don said, "You didn't kill Kade, Charlie?"

"You do realize that Kade is dead, don't you?"

"Yeah, but you didn't kill him. He died from a gunshot wound to the back."

Charlie turned toward his brother wide-eyed. "What?"

"I shot Kade," explained Don. "When I got to your office and Kade raised his gun, I shot him as fast as I could."

Charlie shook his head. "I should still feel something. A student of mine is dead!"

"Your reaction to Kade's death is normal. You don't have to feel guilty over him, Buddy."

"What about Libby? I can't get over her."

"There is no way in the world Libby would blame you for this, Charlie. Her death was nobody's fault but Kade's, okay?"

Charlie ran a hand down his face and nodded. "It's not going to go away overnight, Don."

"You wouldn't be normal if it did."

Don could see his brother smirk in the dark. "When have I ever been normal, Don?"

"Good point."

Both Don and Charlie jumped a little when the light flickered back on and the scifi movie come back on. The hero of the movie and "his girl" were sharing a passionate kiss, signaling the end of the movie.

"It looks like it stopped raining," said Don, after casting a glance out the living room window. Both brothers got off the couch and stepped out of the house onto the porch.

The Pasadena neighborhood was soaked; the street and sidewalks was covered with puddles, and raindrops feel from the trees with every small gust of wind soaking the ground even more. There was a dog barking somewhere in the distance, and Don saw a bat flutter across the sky.

"Maybe that'll be the last one for awhile," said Don. "We're due for some sunshine."

Charlie shrugged. "Maybe." Don was a little disappointed when he didn't get a lecture on how "people are never due for anything."

"Are you okay, Charlie?"

I don't think so; I'm just very tired." Charlie yawned loudly, "I'm gonna go to bed. Night."

"Night, Buddy," said Don, watching his brother disappear into the house. With a sigh, Don turned to stared up at the cloudy night sky; he could faintly see the moon behind a dark wispy cloud.

XVIIIIV

_Charlie once again found himself in the rainy library, but this time, Scary Libby and the aviary were missing. He spotted a door with light shining under it, and Charlie threw open the door praying it would lead to somewhere better. Sunlight nearly blinded his as he stepped into an open field._

_He could faintly hear the mellow cords of a guitar from somewhere across the field. Charlie stumbled across the field searching for where the music was coming from. After clambering over a small hill, Charlie finally spotted the guitar player and instantly recognized the small form of Libby Fields. As Charlie approached her, he prayed that he wouldn't run into Scary Libby again._

_Libby stopped playing and turned toward Charlie; he was relieved to see that she looked normal. "Isn't this the biggest utility closet you've ever seen?" she asked, giving him a smile._

_"Libby?"_

_"The one and only. Well, actually, not the one and only Libby. I had a science teacher back in high school with the name Libby." She set her guitar off to the side. "Have a seat."_

_Charlie cautiously sat down next to her. "Are you...okay?"_

_"Well," said Libby, looking out into the distance for a moment, "for the most part. I am dead after all."_

_Charlie winced at that even though there was no malice in her voice. "I'm sorry," he said quietly as he stared down his hands which were folded in his lap._

_"For what?"_

_"For you dying."_

_Libby turned to stare at him. "I'm confused. As far as I know, Kade Hackett killed me, not you."_

_"I told you everything would be okay. You died."_

_"A lot of people told me I would be okay, including my brother. Besides, I told you my fate was in the hands of something bigger, and I wasn't talking about the FBI."_

_"So, you're not mad about dying."_

_"I would rather die than have someone die for me. I couldn't let Kade kill Matt Depp. Besides, it's peaceful out here." Libby stood up. "Come on. I want to show you something."_

_Charlie stood up and followed Libby across the field; she led him to the aviary from the library only it was now sitting beneath a large oak tree. Charlie was relieved to see that the birds weren't fighting; they were all sitting in branches close to the glass. Charlie watched them for awhile praying they wouldn't begin fighting._

_"Just because they don't want or need anything and they just live peacefully does not mean they're happy," said Libby._

_"What?"_

_"They're content. They have everything handed to them, and they never want or need anything, but they're not happy. They're content with the way things are because they don't know any better. I doubt they would have chosen this life if they had been given the choice."_

_Charlie stared at the birds. "Let it go," he heard Libby say._

_"What?" asked Charlie, turning toward her._

_"I said we should them go."_

_Charlie shook his head. "We can't."_

_"Sure we can. We just open up the aviary, and if the birds want to leave, they leave, and if want to stay, they stay."_

_"How do we open it?"_

_"With the key," replied Libby._

_"We don't have the key."_

_"I don't have the key," said Libby, "but you do. Open your hand."_

_Charlie looked down; he hadn't even realized that one of his hands was clenched tightly shut. He slowly opened his hand and saw a small gold key resting in his palm. With his other hand, Charlie picked up the key and studied it. After a moment, Libby took it and walked slowly toward the aviary. Charlie noticed that even though the birds were studying were carefully, they did not fly away from there perch near the glass. _

_Libby inserted the key in the lock to the aviary's small door and unlocked it. She suddenly threw open the door and then hurried back to where Charlie stood. "Watch," she said quietly._

_The top slid of the aviary slid to the side, the walls fell to the ground, and every single bird flew away into the clear blue sky._

_"Let it go." He heard Libby say as they both watched the birds fly off into the distance._

_"Let what go?" asked Charlie, still watching the birds._

_"The pain, the guilt, the fear. Just let it go."_

_"I don't know how."_

_"It's simple," said Libby. "You take a deep breath, let it out, and let it all go."_

_"It can't be that simple."_

_"Why don't you give it a try?" She stooped down and picked up her guitar that seemed to have followed them to that exact spot. With a sigh, Libby turned toward. "You might want to wake up; your brother is getting worried."_

"What?" Charlie suddenly found himself in hi s bedroom with his brother bending over him looking a little worried.

"God, Charlie. I've been trying to wake you up for ten minutes. Are you okay?"

Charlie slowly sat up and stared at his brother. "What time is it?"

"11:30 am. Buddy, are you okay or not?"

Charlie took a deep breath and then it out slowly, feeling better for the first time in weeks. "Yeah, Don. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" asked Don, setting his hand on his brother's shoulders and studying him carefully.

Charlie nodded and swung his legs over the side of his bed. "Yeah, I'm fine." He smiled that was the first time in what seemed like forever that "fine" was the truth. "I'm hungry."

Don laughed. "I say we go find lunch then." He couldn't believe this was the same Charlie from the night before.

"Alright. Just let me grab a shower."

Don left his brother's room to allow him so time to get ready, but he couldn't help but smile to himself. His brother was slowly returning, and things looked they were going to go back to normal or at least close to normal. Don cast a glance out the hallway window and then paused to look at the beautiful summer day. The sun was out slowly drying up the rain from the night before, and Don could see a large group of birds flying across the sky.

**Finem**


End file.
